Confrontation
by GrissomsOverture
Summary: When Grissom and Sara attend a forensics conference, they are forced to remember that there is more to life than science...
1. Confrontation chapter one

Title: "Confrontation"  
  
Author: GrissomsOverture  
  
Description: When Grissom and Sara attend a forensics conference, they are forced to confront that fact that there is more to life than science.  
  
Spoilers: I reference episodes from all seasons, but it's probably nothing you haven't read or heard already if you've missed the ep. If I spoiled something for you, I apolagize sincerely, and you can flog me with a wet noodle. Deal?  
  
Disclaimers: If I owned Grissom, I promise you I'd be the happiest woman in the world. Unfortunatley, I don't. I also don't own "CSI" or anything else that belongs to the brilliant world of Jerry Bruckheimer.  
  
*Note: Songs used and not referenced are "If I Ever Loose My Faith In You" by Sting and "Bring Me To Life" by Evanescence. Book quote is from "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I don't own anything by these lovely people, either. I'm just an admiring fan.  
  
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Grissom stared intently at the computer screen, hoping to find answers somewhere behind the plastic screen. The computer had been idle for half an hour; the annoying flying windows where all that greeted his eyes. But he didn't seem to notice. His pager went off, and he jumped slightly at the interruption in his thoughts. Slightly annoyed, he glanced at the pager, the numbers on the screen making his grim face perk up a bit. He made his way to the morgue to get the results of Robin's latest post, his mood brightening at the hopes of some evidence, the story the dead man on the table would tell.  
  
Sara was entering the building, metal kit in hand, and smiled tentatively at Grissom as he passed. He looked at her with an unreadable expression, and then continued his way to the autopsy suite. "Griss." she started, but he didn't hear. "Damn," Her heart burned. What had happened between them lately; what was this invisible wall they'd built? Warrick came up behind Sara, arms full of evidence from the scene. "You OK?" "Yeah.hey, is something wrong with Grissom? He's been very.quiet, all night." Warrick raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Sorry, Sar, to be honest with you I haven't noticed. I'm gonna go process these, k?" She nodded, brow still furrowed. Of course. Why had she bothered to ask? Why would Warrick be hyper-sensitive to Grissom's moods? Sara wished, for a moment, that she was like her friends and co-workers on the team; that she could have an impartial, cut-and-dried friendship with Gil; a normal, supervisor- subservient relationship. But it could never be that way, at least for her. There would always be feelings. She has learned by now that she couldn't control her heart. Her brain never let her down; her heart was fickle. Pushing these thoughts aside, she headed for the lab.  
  
Hours later, the morning was coming fast. Grissom entered the break room and nodded at Catherine, who was sipping coffee and watching CNN. "Hey, Catherine, I've got a favor to ask." "Shoot," she said, not looking away from the TV. "Well, I'm sure you know the US Forensic Sciences Society conference is next week up in Colorado Springs," She nodded, still reading the news ticker. He ignored her inattentiveness and continued. "And I've been asked to speak on advances in entomology." "Good for you," Catherine smiled appreciatively, glancing for a moment at her friend before going back to the news. "Yeah. Anyway, I need to take one member of my team along. It's not my choice, but the department wants one you guys to come and have the benefit of all the new information and equipment to bring back to the rest of the team." "Why?" Catherine asked, puzzled. "They don't think you're capable of speaking AND listening to the microscope vendor's schpeel?" He shrugged. "Trust me, I spent a long time arguing this one, and I'm not going to win. They want another CSI to come along. That's what we get for being the number-two lab in the country; they want to make sure we're up to speed, and make our presence known at the conference." She shrugged, switching the TV off and turning to face Grissom. "Makes sense, I guess." He nodded ruefully and continued. "So, day shift's swamped, none of them can come along. Nick and Warrick are knee-deep in the casino robbery and double murder, so I can't ask them. You're fairly free, right? It's only Friday, Saturday and part of Sunday." Catherine thought for a moment, and then shook her head. "Mmm-sorry, Grissom. Much as I'd love to help you out and sit through hours of forensic anthropology lectures, Lindsey's school play is Friday night. Besides, I told Warrick and Nick if they needed back-up with the casino robbery, I'd help. Remember? You approved." He sighed, and nodded. "Wait-Sara just wrapped up the home invasion. I don't think she's got anything too big going on right now. Why haven't you asked her? She'd love to go." Grissom looked at the ceiling, then, completely ignoring Catherine's question, walked toward the door, throwing a "Thanks, anyway, Cath," over his shoulder. Catherine looked after him, shaking her head in bewilderment. "Men," she muttered.  
  
Sara sat in the lab, singing softly to herself and doing paperwork on the case she'd just finished. Grissom stood behind her, and a soft smile played on his lips. She was adorable when she didn't think anyone was watching her. Her hair curled around her ears, tickling the collar of the blue lab coat. Her singing voice was soft and sweet. She was beautiful. How was he going to handle two days in close proximity with this woman and keep his emotions at bay? Especially when the scenario was so similar to their first meeting; the seminar that seemed light years in the past. But it had to be done. Taking a deep breath, Grissom walked toward Sara, coaching himself all the way. 'You can do this, Gil. You're a scientist. You are completely detached from, and in control of, you're emotions. You can do this, for the team. Sara is a colleague; a friend; nothing more. This can be done. Do it." Clearing his throat to make his presence known, he leaned against the desk in front of the only person he COULDN'T keep his emotions detached from. 'Hide it,' the voice in his head commanded as he looked down at her. Sara jumped, her reverie broken. A blush crept to her cheeks as she realized he'd heard her singing. "Hi, Sara. I'm sorry I startled you. How's the documentation coming?" She wrinkled her nose. "Fine. You know how it is. Paperwork is the worst part of the job." One side of his mouth pulled into an understanding grin. "Yeah, I know.Well, listen. I've got to ask if you'd be interested in going to the Forensic Sciences Society conference. I've got to deliver a lecture, and I need to take one of my CSI's along." He rolled his eyes. "Department's orders. Everyone else is swamped, so.you willing and able to go?" He looked at a petri dish on the counter and fiddled with it. Why did he feel like a high school freshman asking a girl out on a date? Sara frowned. She felt all at once excited at the prospect of spending a weekend with him, elated to be going to the conference-and hurt that she was his last choice. She opened her mouth to say so-then stopped. 'For God's sake-I'm at work. This is my boss, asking me to go on a work-related trip. Of course he'd ask other people. I'm a scientist; I'm not back in high school. Act like an adult.' "Yeah, absolutely, I'd love to go. I'm pretty much caught up with everything." Las Vegas had been relatively quiet, crime-wise, with the exception of Nick and Warrick's casino case. The workaholic in Sara had been itching for more to do. She wasn't' used to this quiet, and it irritated her. The conference would be a welcome opportunity to learn more about her field. Pushing thoughts of being alone with Grissom from the forefront of her brain, she grinned in excitement at the thought of the conference. Grissom nodded, ignoring the pounding of his heart. 'She's not excited about going with you; she's excited because she's a scientist.' He swallowed. "Good. Good, then. I knew you'd want to go." She looked at him, an unreadable expression in her brown eyes. "I mean, I know you like.conferences." Sara smiled widely. What was he trying to say?... She decided to ignore it. They'd have all weekend to talk.her stomach felt as though it had done a back-flip at the thought. She closed her eyes and shook her head for a half-second, trying to clear her head. "Anyway..when do we leave?" "5 AM Friday morning. The city is paying for our hotel room-rooms." Sara's heart jumped, and Grissom was glad for the dim lighting in the lab so she couldn't see his face pale at the Fruedian slip. He went on, staring at his shoes. "We should get there around 6 or so." "We're driving?" He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Yeah. They'll pay for our rooms and reimburse our gas money, but that's as good as gets." Sara laughed. "I'm not surprised. Well, we'll take turns driving. It shouldn't be too bad." He nodded, turning to leave the lab. "God, let's hope not." He mumbled under his breath. Sara, staring at her paperwork and pretending not to be distracted, pretending her head wasn't running wild with ideas about the weekend, didn't hear him. 


	2. Confrontation chapter two

The next day passed quickly, and soon it was Thursday night. Grissom had given Sara half the night off to pack and get some rest, which she hated. Forget sleep; she'd rather be at work. It was 3 AM. Her bags had long been packed and by the door, ready to go. She lay on her bed on top of the covers, dressed and ready, totally unable to sleep. In two hours, Grissom and his soft blue eyes would be at her door, and they'd spend 13 hours in a car together. Then they'd spend a weekend in their element, surrounded by the thing they both loved; science, their work, their passion. She couldn't wait to hear his lecture, to see his eyes light up at some new discovery during a presentation. She loved his mind; so like hers, yet so different. He had taught her everything he knew, taken her under his wing and watched her fly. And now she was here, in Las Vegas, with him, working under him. And she would spend the next two nights in a hotel room right next to his. And she would have to pretend that she didn't feel anything more for him than respect and admiration as a former teacher and as her supervisor.  
  
Sara got up and walked over to her dresser. Beside her neatly placed toiletry items and hairbrush, the plant from Grissom reflected in her mirror. She fingered the waxy green leaves and felt her heart tug the way it always did whenever she looked at the small fern. And then there was the card that came with it, tucked into the frame of her mirror, with the inscription, "From Grissom". Nothing more had been said after she'd received the plant; she'd simply withdrawn her request for leave of absence and thanked him for the gift. She had tried desperately to read something in his eyes when she'd thanked him, but he managed to avoid her own eyes completely, saying simply, "I'm glad you liked it." he had looked up then, briefly, taking off his glasses and saying, "I'm--the lab, is glad you're not leaving. Like I said--uh, we'd be at a loss without you." And he had gone back to his laptop. She had accepted it, along with the fact that she was secretly in love with a man who was incapable of showing emotion, and that she was incapable of leaving him, despite the very real possibility that her love may never be returned.  
  
Sara went to the bathroom and filled the glass on the counter with water. She carried it to her dresser, watering the plant. She tended to the plant as if it was somehow a symbol of the non-relationship she shared with her superior; it represented something-but what? What did Grissom feel for her, if anything? She had turned it over in her mind thousands of times. Was it a gesture of simple friendship, a simple peace gift, or something more? She hated the way he made her think, so unsure, like a school girl with a crush. But whatever Sara did, she knew in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't ever let it show. Sara looked at herself in the mirror. "I'd give anything to read your mind, Gil Grissom," she said aloud. Then she was startled by her alarm clock, screaming that it was 4:30 to a person who'd never fallen asleep.  
  
Across town, Grissom loaded his bag into the back of the Tahoe, shutting the door with a thud. The stars where starting to fade, consenting to give way to the sun, and the sky was streaked a beautiful pink across the blue. Grissom sighed appreciatively; one of the best parts of doing graveyard was seeing the sunrise. He'd been at the lab all night, going over his presentation. He'd let Sara go home to sleep, but didn't allow himself that luxury, knowing sleep wouldn't come even if he'd tried. His heart thumped a constant erratic tune with the knowledge that he'd spend this night and the following evenings in a hotel room right next to Sara Sidle. He turned to get into the car and was greeted by Catherine and Nick headed out of the building. "Hey, Gil. Off to pick up Sara?" Catherine asked with a smile. He furrowed one eyebrow at her suggestive little grin. "Yes. Why?" Catherine shrugged, opening the door to the Tahoe next to Grissom's so Nick could load the ALS machine. Nick smiled his ever-present Texas-wide smile. "You excited about the conference, Grissom?" "Not particularly, no." "Oh, come one! It'll be fun." he frowned, surveying their equipment and going through a check-list in his head. Realizing something was missing, "Hey, Cath, I forgot something, I'll be right back." "Alright," Catherine said as Nick jogged back into the building, smiling at his exuberance. She turned to Grissom, who was still frowning. "Lighten up, Gil. I hope you're not this grumpy when you pick Sara up." "Catherine, I am not 'grumpy'," he said the word as if it tasted bad. Catherine laughed slightly and shook her head. "I'm glad I couldn't go. Listen, Grissom, this'll be good for both of you to get away, out of the office.spend some time one-on-one, sort some things out. You know." "No, I don't 'know'. I don't know what we'd have to 'sort out'." Grissom responded incredulously, as if she'd just told him that the earth was indeed flat. Catherine sighed and closed her eyes. "OK, Grissom. Just.remember what I told you before." Immediately, Grissom's mind flashed back to their dinner in his townhouse; '"You've got to.lift your head out of that microscope!..."' Catherine knew her friend was following her train of thought. Watching his eyes, she continued "You can't live in your office, with your bugs. You're a living, breathing person. And frankly, I'm tired of reminding you that." He looked away from the redhead and stared at the sky. "I know." "Do you? Really? Gil, I've known you for a long time, and there are very few times when I feel like you DO realize that you're alive. And usually, those times are when Sara is around." Shocked, Grissom's head snapped back to Catherine's. She raised an eyebrow in smug satisfaction, arms across her chest. There, she'd said it. Maybe it would finally resonate in his thick skull.  
  
Nick came back out, some fresh supplies in his hand. "Ready, Cath?" "Oh, yeah." She looked at Grissom's face, pale and tired-looking. She wondered how long he'd been juggling this inside, how further back it went than Sara's work at the lab in Vegas. She placed a hand on her friends arm and squeezed it gently. "Have fun, Gil. Be nice. Remember.there truly IS more to life than science." Patting his arm, she jumped into the passenger seat of the Tahoe. "Bye, Griss! Tell Sara I said 'bye'!" Nick called out the open window as he pulled out of the parking lot. Grissom watched the car leave, his breath shaky, mind blank. 'Ignore it, Gil.' As he had all his life, Grissom chose to listen to his head over his emotions. He got in, started the car, and went to Sara's apartment; a place he'd never been, but a route he knew by heart. He had memorized it a long time ago-just in case. He told Sara none of this when she gave him directions that night before.  
  
Three hours later, Sara sat in silence, the roar of the highway lulling her to sleep. Grissom drove silently across from her. He'd rung her doorbell and politely carried her bags, all with little more than a "good morning" and "do you have everything" spoken in between. Simple pleasantries. Sara knew Grissom loved roller coasters, but she herself was not fond of the things. And she was getting particularly motion-sick from the ride Grissom had put her on; one day, thinking things were back to normal between them; the next, he was so cold he reminded her of the corpse she'd just seen on Robbin's table. Without thinking, she let out a shaky sigh. Grissom looked at her. She looked exhausted; her hair was back in a ponytail, making the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced without hair around her face to hide them. He could feel the icy dome he'd planned around his heart melting in spite of himself. She had that effect on him. He felt a terrible urge to reach out and caress her face. "Sara," he said, gently. Her brown eyes met his, there was something in them.what? "Yeah?" Even her voice was weary. "Did you sleep at all this morning?" "No," she admitted. "Sara," he chided gently. "You should have. Why don't you take a nap now." She shook her head, suppressing a yawn. "No, no-don't you need me to drive soon?" He passed a car going below the interstate speed limit and then looked at her again, his eyes full of compassion she hadn't seen in a long time. It made her breath catch. "No, Sara, I'm fine. Sleep for awhile. I'll wake you when I need a break. You can't drive like this, anyway." Too tired to complain, she shrugged. "OK." She leaned back, trying to get comfortable around her seat belt. Grissom watched from the corner of his eye. Not taking his eyes off the road, he reached into the back seat and pulled up his wind breaker. Balling it up with one hand, he handed it to her. "Here; use this as a pillow. It's softer than the window ledge." She accepted it, smiling. "Thanks." She cuddled against the shiny material, taking in his scent as she breathed. It was heavenly. "Mind if I put some music on?" His voice startled her. "No." She closed her eyes. Grissom switched the radio on, flipping the dial until he found an all-classical AM station. He turned the music just loud enough that he could barely hear it. He was used to turning his music loud enough to enjoy it, but he didn't want to disturb Sara too much. Or, alert her to the fact that he was having enough hearing problems to need his music at decibels louder than even Greg could tolerate.  
  
The music, rocking of the car, and the smell of Grissom soothed Sara into a gentle sleep. The road stretched before them, and Grissom allowed himself a view of the slumbering woman beside him as often as possible. He could not ignore the thought when it entered his head, 'I could watch her sleep forever'. The miles stretched on. They took turns driving all day, stopping at a diner for a quick lunch, and for a couple of 'pit stops'. Grissom had heard stories about women and their notoriously small bladders on road trips, and was pleasantly surprised to find what a good traveler Sara was. She never complained, and only asked to stop twice. Snippets of overheard conversations between Greg and Warrick ran through his head, about the value of a 'low-maintenance' girlfriend. He looked at Sara, observing her. 'Any man would be so lucky to have you,' He feared for a moment that he'd said it out loud when she turned her head towards him, her big smile making his heart skip. "What?" she asked, amused. He was doing it again, staring at her like she was a piece of evidence under his Nikon lens, or a tarantula in his cage. "Nothing," he said innocently, and she was rewarded with one of his own charming, small smiles. She chuckled. "Grissom, I know it's never 'nothing' with you." Before he could ask her for clarification, she asked him for his thoughts on the casino case back in Vegas, and they launched into easy conversation about their work. Soon, it was like days they could both remember well, days before the invisible walls and barriers had been built. The hours and miles ticked by as they talked, and soon the Nevada desert phased serenely into the Colorado Mountains.  
  
Grissom pulled into the conference center/hotel, feeling at once relieved to be finished driving for a few days, and disappointed that his time with Sara alone was over. He rolled his head from side to side, grimacing at the crick in his neck. Sara watched, her hand itching to reach out and massage his neck. "Are you OK?" "Oh, yeah, I'll be fine. Just a kink." He smiled wearily. "Well, we're here. Let's go check in." 


	3. Confrontation chapter three

Grissom and Sara checked in and headed to their rooms-which were indeed right next to each other. As they stood at each other's room doors, both thought of the nearness of the other, and what a long night it would be.Grissom cleared his throat. "Well, I'll get freshened up, and meet you in half an hour to go down to the welcome dinner?" She nodded, swallowing hard. "Yep, see you in a few." Sara grunted as she lifted her bag. "Oh, here-I'll carry it in for you." Grissom said, surprising her. "Uh, thanks," she stuttered as he slipped it off of her shoulder and onto his own in one swift movement that left a buzzing of electricity between them from where his skin had briefly grazed hers. "What did you pack, anyway? It feels like you filled this thing with casting plaster." Sara placed her hands on her hips and laughed. "No, not at all! All I packed extra.I just packed a few notebooks, to take notes, and a couple of tape recorders and some blank tapes." Grissom knew she'd packed two tape recorders in case one stopped working-he'd done the same thing. Sara added, "I also wasn't sure what shoes I'd need for the different activities-so I packed more shoes than I probably needed." Grissom laughed heartily at this. "What is it with women and shoes?" Sara smirked and pursed her lips, feigning annoyance and trying not to laugh. "I could ask you what it is with men and bugs, Dr. Grissom." She swiped the key card and followed Grissom into her room. "I don't think I have to explain the scientific value of insects to you, Miss Sidle. Shoes, on the other hand." he set the bag on her bed with an exaggerated "OOF!" Sara laughed. "Oh, PLEASE, Grissom. Shoes are important, too, and you know it. How many cases have we solved with shoe treads and tracks?" He shook his head, eyes twinkling. "See, to me that just proves that shoes are associated with bad things, like crime. Criminals like shoes." She guffawed loudly. "Oh, give me a break!" Keeping an almost-straight face, he went on teasing. "Insects help SOLVE crimes. Insects, Sara Sidle, are our friends. Not shoes. Where would man kind be without bugs?" Her grin was huge and childlike, warming Grissom's heart. He was filled with a longing to touch her once more. He ignored it, enjoying their playful banter. "No, no, no. As much good as bugs do, they can also cause a lot of harm. Shoes have never hurt anyone. Where would mankind be without shoes?" Grissom rolled his eyes. "OK, I give up. But only because we'll be late if we don't get ready." Sara looked at the bedside clock in alarm. He grinned fondly at her worried expression, knowing her affinity for punctuality. "Out, Dr. Bug. I'll see you in a few." Still smiling, he nodded and headed for his own room, his heart filled with a lightness that had been missing for far too long.  
  
Sara unzipped her duffel and pulled out a few necessary toiletries and fresh clothing. Her sore, road-tired body ached for a shower.  
  
As she stood naked in front of the shower, trying to figure out how the unfamiliar hotel faucet worked, she heard the water start in the bathroom next to her. A hard, longing, chill crept up her spine as she realized Grissom must be showering at the same time as she was. 'Dammit, Sara, focus. Remember what you're here for.' She finished her shower quickly, forcing her brain to concentrate on each task of getting ready as it was accomplished-dry, dress, makeup, hair-anything to get her mind of off Grissom.  
  
Grissom's body went still when he felt the change in water pressure. He winced, thinking of her.He placed his hand on the shower wall, knowing that somewhere on the other side of that wall, there was someone he very much wanted in a position he very much wanted her in. He wanted to trade the drops of water caressing his body for Sara's soft, long fingers.He remembered Sara's first case with a decomp in an enclosed space-the "liquid man" as Nicky and the team had lovingly dubbed him. He remembered thinking that even smelling like death she was still adorable, as he passed her in the hallway. He'd been in a hurry for something, and he had wanted to stay with her and help her out, to tell her about his first similar case, but all he'd been able to do was tell her to use lemons to remove the scent from her pores. Images of Sara and himself in a bathtub full of floating lemons, helping her scrub the day away.had haunted him all evening. 'No, Gil. No, no, no.' He told himself firmly, and stepped out of the shower, his legs shaking.  
  
The welcome dinner was interesting enough. They where given several handouts and an itinerary of the weekend's activities. The president of the USFSS gave a brief welcome address, and gave an overview of the weekend's presentations-including Grissom's, which required Grissom to stand up and make his presence known in a room full of people. He looked uncomfortable, which surprised Sara. The Grissom she knew was always so confident. He had looked at her as he stood and nodded to his fellow scientists, seeming almost to want to draw strength from her. She had beamed at him encouragingly, clapping loudly. He'd given her a warm smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and her heart melt. The highlight of the evening for Sara, however, happened during the meal. She had noticed with dread when they'd arrived that the meal of the evening served by the convention center's restaurant to the conventioneers was either a T-bone steak or lemon chicken. 'I'll just have to ignore it and enjoy the side-dishes,' she told herself glumly. But later on, when the servers brought around the dinners, the waiter placed a lemon chicken in front of Grissom, and looked at the table number, then looking at her asked, "You're the analysts from Las Vegas's lab, right?" Puzzled, Sara nodded. "Good, just wanted to confirm I got the right table." The waiter then placed a grilled vegetable and pasta dish in front of Sara. She smiled. "This is great! How'd they know?" Grissom looked up from his baked potato and said, "Oh, the event coordinators called yesterday to confirm we where coming. They asked if we had any special needs or food preferences, if we wanted steak or chicken at the welcome dinner, and I told them my CSI was a vegetarian." He said it like it was nothing. Sara's mouth started to drop open. "You remembered?...Thank you, Grissom." Shrugging, "Sure," he said around a mouthful of chicken. She smiled and shook her head as she began to eat. 'Will wonders never cease,.' she thought. Perhaps it would be an even more interesting weekend that she'd originally thought.  
  
Grissom's heart swelled with pride beneath the surface, unbelievably happy that he'd made her happy. She looked lovely across the table, hair curled loosely around her face, wearing a pale short-sleeved sweater and a slim black skirt with a slit on one side that had made him crazy the moment he'd seen it, walking behind her from their side-by-side rooms. Light sandals and a necklace made of elephant hair cord with a small replica of a monarch butterfly hanging from it completed her outfit. "I like your necklace," he said, looking at it intently. She smiled mischievously. "Of course. It's a bug." He laughed. "Sara, someone very wise once told me you shouldn't reduce everything about a person down to a single quirk." She blushed, remembering that day. "Please tell me that when you think about me, you think about more than just bugs." There was a smile playing on his lips, but her heart tugged at the meaning behind his words. "Griss, I"-she was cut short by the booming voice of the president announcing that the after-dinner 'meet and greet' would be in a different room number than had been posted on the itinerary. Annoyed, Grissom and Sara both scribbled the change down in place of the original room on their itineraries. Sara watched the muscles in Grissom's arm flex as he wrote. He was wearing a short-sleeved blue shirt that complemented his eyes. God, she could think of so many things about Grissom that didn't involve bugs right now.Giving her head a characteristic shake, she said "Anyway. What was I saying?" Grissom dapped at his mouth with his napkin once more before folding it and placing it on his dirty plate. "It's alright. We'd better get to the 'meet and greet'." She laughed at the way he said it, with sarcasm, in an almost Jerry Lewis-type voice. He hadn't joked around like that in so long. "Really," she sighed in agreement. The last thing she wanted right then was to be surrounded by people she didn't know, and didn't particularly want to know. The only person in Colorado she cared about was in front of her.  
  
Later that evening, Sara slipped one foot out of a sandal to rub the other aching foot with. She wondered how she'd gotten roped into this conversation. She was stranded amid a group that consisted of two CSI's and a forensic pathologist from New York, who was in the midst of an animated retelling of the last murder he'd autopsied right before he'd left for the conference. Which would have been interesting if it hadn't been a very long day, and if they hadn't just been served chocolate cake. The story had started because the color of the frosting reminded the pathologist of the dirt he'd found in what remained of his victim's head. Only the doctor didn't seem to realize that this wasn't' the most appetizing subject, even for a group of CSI's, around chocolate cake. He shoveled a forkful in his mouth as he continued to describe the fatal head wound. "So, yeah, it was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen. Basically his whole left side was gone- eye, cerebellum, hair, everything. The whole damn kit and caboodle." He paused, either for dramatic effect, to swallow his cake, or both. "I had no idea what the hell kind of accident or weapon had caused that damn thing, so I..." Sara tuned him out as the crowd in front of her parted and she spotted Grissom across the room. He was engaged in a debate with the USSFS president, but he looked as worn-out as she felt. He was a sight for sore eyes. Sara has lost track of him soon as they'd arrived at the meet-and- greet. "Excuse me," she mumbled, setting down her untouched piece of cake on the banquet table and slipping away from the group. She made her way towards her supervisor. Grissom spotted her coming and smiled gratefully. "John, this is one of my team, Sara Sidle. Sara, John Fuller." He placed a hand on the small of her back, sending chills up her spine. Noticing her slight shiver, "Are you cold?" he asked, concerned, as if the president wasn't even there. "No, no, I'm fine." She smiled at Grissom, feeling disbelief at his actions, then remembered where she was and put out her hand to the tall man in front of her. Fuller took it with both hands, making a prick of territorial anger flare in Grissom's chest. Grissom squeezed his finger tips further into Sara's back, protectively. She felt the increase in pressure and instantly felt heady with desire, finding it nearly impossible to focus on the person speaking to her. "What?..." she asked, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. "I said, haven't I met you before? I'm sure I have.Wait, have you ever worked in Boston?" "Huh?...Oh, yeah, yeah. No, I mean. Well, I went to Harvard." She squinted her eyes slightly. "Have we met before?" He nodded. "I believe so. I worked in Boston. Before I headed the Society." He added as way of explanation. "Oh," She said, not really caring. Grissom's hand was still on her back; nothing else mattered. It felt like it had been ages since he'd touched her. She used to be accustomed to his hand on her arm, her shoulder.it was heaven to feel him again, and affected her like it never had before. She realized Mr. Fuller was still speaking. "Wait, a minute-my son went to Harvard-that's it! You dated my son once, didn't you? Ken Fuller?" 'Oh, god.' Sara's heart sunk to her shoes. Ken Fuller. The man who introduced her to the infamous Mile High Club. The relationship had been a basic waste of time; in hindsight, Sara could see that she'd only gotten involved with the guy because she was itching for new experiences-namely sexual-and was bored with her life at the time. But they'd had nothing in common, other than both enjoying science. Ken was hoping to go to medical school, and Sara, at that point in time, had no idea what she wanted. Sara broke it off with Ken not too long after the fateful plane trip (which Ken had dragged her on-she had no interest in going to the beach for Spring Break; it wasn't her 'scene', but it was all Ken could talk about. And in order to look decent among his circle of friends, he needed a girlfriend with him. So Sara, who would have been more than happy to have spent Spring Break catching up on her reading and physics projects, found herself in Miami.) Soon after that, Grissom had come into her life, and turned everything around. She felt Grissom stiffen next to her. "Oh, yes-Ken. Yeah, we went out once or twice." She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "That feels like such a long time ago.How is he, now?" "Great! Married, twins on the way. He's practicing plastic surgery in Los Angeles." Sara bit her tongue to keep from laughing. "Oh, great. Good for him," Knowing that if she stayed at the gathering any longer she'd go ballistic, she turned to Grissom. "Say, Griss, I'm going to head out for the evening. You want to join me?" Grissom nodded. "Sure. We'll talk to you tomorrow, John," He couldn't hide the relief in his voice. They left a bewildered John Fuller behind them. It crossed Sara and Grissom's minds that it probably appeared to the society president that they where a couple going up to a shared room for the evening, but neither cared. As Grissom ushered Sara out of the room, she couldn't help but burst out laughing. "A plastic surgeon in California! He had all these aspirations about doing something to help the greater good. I don't see how carving Sharon Stone a new nose accomplishes that." Grissom smiled, relieved to hear her talking about her ex in a less-than flattering way. "Yes, it doesn't sound like the most.prestigious medical specialty for someone with high aspirations, when you put it that way." Sara sighed contentedly. "I'm so happy to be out of there." Grissom nodded emphatically. "God, so am I." He let out a sigh of relief. In unison, Sara and Grissom both said aloud, "I hate these types of things." They laughed a little, and then walked in comfortable silence through the large convention hall. "It'll be weird to sleep at night. You know? Even after driving all day, it's going to take me forever to fall asleep. I shouldn't have had so much coffee back there. Now I'm all keyed up." Grissom looked at her sideways and nodded thoughtfully. "Would you like to take a walk around the hotel or something? I'm not that tired, either; maybe it'll relax us a little." He asked, tenativley. His offer caught her by surprise, but she wasn't about to turn it down. "Sure; that sounds like a good idea." They headed to their rooms to get their wind breakers, then headed outside.  
  
The two walked slowly, like a couple who'd been together for years, footsteps in tandem, their matching blue CSI jackets flapped against the wind as they talked. Sara told him about the pathologist with the cake- colored dirty head wound; Grissom told her similar conversations he'd overheard during the cake. "That is one of the better parts of these conventions, comparing notes and stories with other scientists. Oh, did I tell you, this weekend counts as 18 credits for your continuing education, so by spending the weekend here, you're getting out of a bunch of lectures and other wonderful times." Grissom smiled down at her. "Really? Wow, that's great! I mean, I'll probably go to the lectures anyway, but it's great to get so many credits racked up at once. That'll look great on my record." She beamed ear to ear at the prospect. Grissom watched her. She was so adorable, so full of life. His life revolved around the dead; but, as Catherine had said, he truly did feel like a living, breathing, thriving person when Sara Sidle was around.  
  
They came to the end of the sidewalk. "You want to go across the street, explore a little?" he asked. "Absolutely." They waited for the 'walk' sign. Sara looked up at him and started to tell him something-but to his dismay, he couldn't hear anything. 'No, not now!' he willed his ears desperately. Sara's head was turned away from him at just the wrong angle, and he couldn't read her lips. How he hated those bleak moments when the word went eerily silent.Hoping Sara wouldn't notice, he began to walk across the street, looking down, willing the moment to pass.  
  
Sara watched him, puzzled, and started to walk after him. She was startled by an ambulance that tore around the corner-headed straight for Grissom. "What the hell.GRISSOM!" she called out to him. But he was looking down, like someone lost, and didn't appear to be at all aware of the siren blaring or Sara's voice. "Gil!" she cried again, her heart pounding. "God, no."  
  
Grissom saw the lights and looked up, frozen in shock. The damn thing was coming right at him. His ear popped him back into a hearing reality, and he was aware of Sara screaming his name behind. He turned around, horrified to see she was coming towards him, in the path of the vehicle. Everything was moving too fast. "No, don't!"-he yelled... 


	4. Confrontation chapter four

In a surge of adrenaline, Sara ran to Grissom and pulled him back  
  
with a strength that could only come from fear, out of harms way. The  
  
ambulance swerved as Sara pulled him, and they fell onto the  
  
pavement, Grissom landing on top of Sara. Grissom felt dizzy, the  
  
street around them spinning as he tried to gather his bearings from  
  
the shock of the moment.  
  
He was jolted into reality as Sara began to cough, her face  
  
red. "Oh, god, Sara-are you OK?" He rolled off of her and pulled her  
  
gently up to a sitting position, as he realized that the force of the  
  
fall had knocked the wind out of her. He placed one hand on her  
  
stomach and with the other rubbed her back, patting gently. "It's OK,  
  
honey, breathe..god, I'm so sorry." He didn't know what to say,  
  
didn't feel like himself. How had this thing just happened? He was  
  
full of concern for Sara, fearful of what he'd done-and in the back  
  
of his mind, realized that his secret was no longer his alone. She'd  
  
want an explanation.  
  
Chest heaving, Sara took shaky breathes as she felt her lungs  
  
starting to again work the way they where supposed to. "I'm fine,"  
  
she gasped, "are you OK? Oh, god, Grissom, your knee." she touched it  
  
gently, and he realized for the first time he was in pain. He hadn't  
  
been able to focus on anything but Sara, now that he saw she would be  
  
fine, he felt a burning pain on his knee. The knee of his khakis was  
  
stained with blood. He grimaced. "It's probably just a scrape, but  
  
there goes any hope of wearing these pants tomorrow night." He looked  
  
at her again, gently touching her face. "God, Sara, I'm so sorry.If  
  
anything happened to you.God."  
  
Her heart beat quickened as they sat on the side of the street in  
  
this strange town, stars twinkling above them, the fading siren shrilly  
  
announcing someone else's pain somewhere in the city. Her breathe was  
  
still shaky, and her back felt bruised; both she and Grissom looked  
  
like hell, covered in dirt and grime from the pavement, but all that  
  
mattered was Grissom's eyes digging into hers, his irises full of  
  
pain at having caused her pain, his hand stroking her cheek as if she  
  
were a fragile child. She was frozen, wanting to remember his look  
  
forever. Finally, she found her voice. "Yes, I, I'm fine.We should  
  
get off the street." He refused to break the spell for a moment more,  
  
then realized, as Sara had, that they where sitting on the side of a  
  
road, bruised and bloodied, and looked like crap. "Can you get up?"  
  
he asked. Sara was touched; his knee was bleeding profusely, and all  
  
he cared about was her. "Yes, Grissom, really, I'm OK. I promise."  
  
His hand was still lingered around her face, she reached up and took  
  
it. Reluctantly, Grissom forced himself into a standing position,  
  
wincing. He reached down and pulled Sara to her feet. She was  
  
surprised (and impressed) by his strength. "You didn't need to pull  
  
me up..." she smiled. He led her to the sidewalk, and stepping behind  
  
her gently pulled down her windbreaker. Her heart fluttered as he  
  
carefully examined her back, pulling down her shirt. Her heart felt  
  
as if it would beat clear out of her chest when she felt him gently  
  
pull her bra strap aside and lightly finger a bruise. "You're pretty  
  
banged up...god, Sara..." She'd never seen him like this. "Grissom...well, so are you. Let's get back to the hotel." He nodded. "I have a first aid kit in my room." Silently they made their way back, both still a little dazed from the event, neither one able to say anything. Grissom walked hovering protectively close to Sara,  
  
his arm gravitating around her back, barely touching, as if she where  
  
a china doll he'd injured, and he feared her breaking completely if  
  
he touched the cracked area. He limped a little as he walked, but  
  
ignored his own pain, overwhelmed by guilt and shame. Gil also  
  
couldn't ignore the voice in his head that reminded him, sometime  
  
that evening, Sara was going to want answers.  
  
Once inside Grissom's hotel room, he retrieved the small travel  
  
first aid kit from his bag and without even looking at his knee, led  
  
Sara to his bed, where he gently forced her to sit down, and removed  
  
her windbreaker. Wordlessly, he sat behind her, opening the kit and  
  
retrieving the antiseptic. "Sara, would you pull your shirt over your  
  
head, please?" Because she trusted him completely, and sensed that he  
  
needed to take care of her first, to relieve his guilt, she did as he  
  
asked. Sara couldn't ignore the effect his words, in a different  
  
context, had on her insides. She held her shirt against her front,  
  
hands trembling. Fire coursed inside her when Grissom carefully undid  
  
her bra band; she could feel him tenderly cleaning her  
  
wounds. "Ouch!" she winced as the antiseptic stung a deeper cut. "I'm  
  
sorry..." With his free hand, he squeezed her bare shoulder,  
  
caressing her with his thumb. Sara squeezed her eyes shut tight. This  
  
was torture. If he only knew the effect he was having on her body...  
  
Grissom finished. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" he quickly clasped  
  
her bra, and helped pull her shirt back on. "No, I don't think  
  
so." "Thank God you didn't hit your head when you fell. At least-are  
  
you sure you didn't? Let me see your eyes. Come here." She turned to  
  
face him on the bed, and he took her face in his hands. "Open your  
  
eyes wide and look right at me." She did as instructed, staring into  
  
his pupils, nose inches away from his own. He studied her own pupils  
  
carefully. "Now look up." She did. "OK, it doesn't look like you've  
  
got a concussion." He reached gently behind her head, feeling the  
  
back of her head. His hand traveled down her neck. She could barely  
  
breathe; all the while his eyes were trained on her face, his eyes  
  
full of concern and...something else. "Really, I think I'm OK. Now  
  
it's your turn. God, Grissom, look at your knee." In the light of the  
  
hotel room it was clear that the pants had ripped, and a meaty scrape  
  
full of road gravel was surrounded by torn khaki, plastered against  
  
his kneecap with dried blood. "You'd better go take off those pants  
  
and wash that out in the sink before I can do anything with it."  
  
Grissom didn't argue, remembering that his knee did indeed hurt like  
  
hell. He shuffled to the bathroom.  
  
Listening to the water run, and Grissom's groan of pain as he  
  
removed his khakis, Sara rubbed her forehead. What an odd turn the  
  
evening had taken; Grissom taking her shirt off, ordering him to  
  
remove his pants. In any other scenario, she mused, this would be an  
  
evening straight out of her wildest dreams. But instead, this had  
  
happened. What had happened to Grissom in those few moments? He'd  
  
been like a deaf person, blindly crossing the street. She wasn't sure  
  
what to feel, and she wanted to know the rest of the story. But now, Grissom emerged from the bathroom in black sweatpants, left leg rolled up to accommodate his injured knee. He looked extremely annoyed to be the one needing  
  
help. "Shit, that hurt." Sara couldn't help but smile. "I know. It's  
  
your turn for first aid; come on." He reluctantly joined her on the  
  
bed, laying his knee in front of her. "I think I got all of the dirt  
  
out in there." "Let me see." Instinctively, Sara reached beside her,  
  
to grab her mini Maglite out of her pocket-until she realized it  
  
wasn't there. Grissom realized what she was doing, and they both  
  
laughed. Both knew what it felt like to always be on the job-and to  
  
be totally out of their element when they weren't on the job.  
  
Smiling, Sara made do by pulling the lamp shade over to shed light on  
  
her work area. "Oh-you missed some." "What?!" he exclaimed. "You're  
  
kidding!" "Nope." She pulled on a pair of latex gloves from the kit  
  
and took to his knee with tweezers. "Ouch!" he yelped. "Sorry." She  
  
tried not to smile. "I'm not used to pulling evidence out of wounds  
  
on live victims." "I'm not used to being a crime scene." He said sarcastically. Grissom bit his lip as Sara worked, breathing a sigh of relief when she finished  
  
with the bandage. "OK. Now, make sure you can bend easily. Don't want  
  
it to tight." He obediently lifted his leg and bent it several times.  
  
He nodded in approval. "Nice. You do good work, Sidle." "I know," she  
  
said calmly, cleaning up the mess. "OK," she said, sitting down with  
  
a sigh. "Are we both fine, now?" He nodded, slowly. "I am if you  
  
are." "Good." Sara crawled towards him, and leaned back on the pillow  
  
beside him. "Then, Gil...we need to talk." He looked at the other  
  
side of the room, taking a deep breath. "I know." 


	5. Confrontation chapter five

Grissom stared at his knee, biting his lip. Sara waited patiently. He got off the bed, and went to his suitcase, removing his laptop. He returned to his spot next to Sara and booted his laptop up. The hotel had wireless connections, so when everything had finished loading, he pulled up the internet and went to his personal bookmarks. Grissom's finger hesitated over the 'enter' key; he looked at Sara. "Do you remember when you asked me why I knew sign language?" "Yes," she replied, remembering also her irritation and hurt when he refused to tell her why. "Well, the reason I know it, Sara-my mother was profoundly deaf." Sara raised her eyebrows, her expression registering her shock. "Oh." she shut her mouth, letting him continue. "She had a progressive genetic disease called otosclerosis. Heard of it?" he asked, tentatively. "Uh, yeah, yeah, actually I have. Isn't it, uh-hereditary?" He pressed the 'enter' key, drawing up a web site with a diagram of the inner ear and otosclerosis' effects on the stapes, or stirrup, bone. He handed the laptop to Sara; she read the full web page, then handed it back. She remained silent, waiting for him to answer her question. Finally, Grissom took a deep breath. "Yes, Sara; in my case, it is hereditary." He avoided her eyes. "Oh, Griss." She couldn't think of anything to say. She knew how devastating it was for an analyst to face losing one of the five senses. If it where herself in that position.she'd be terrified. "So.how long have you known?" He shrugged. "About a year." "Does anyone else know?" "Gerrard." Sara inhaled deeply and blew out her breath, slowly. "You don't think he'll use it against you?..." "He tried, when he was investigating us." "God.But, you haven't told anyone else on the team?" He shook his head. "I don't know, Sara, I..I don't know." "It's OK. You know you can trust me. I won't tell anyone else, unless you ask me to." Her kind tone and words did little to comfort him, though that was their intent. Instead, Grissom felt utterly defeated. The worst thing of all was the fact that Sara knew, now, that he was weak, he was defected; how could he ever expect her to think of anything more than an old man with a hearing problem? How would she ever be attracted to him?.. How could he expect her to want to share a life, a relationship, when he was damaged like this? He could get a stapendectomy, he could be repaired. But the fact of the matter, he reasoned, still remained that Sara was young, beautiful, vital, perfect. He was the opposite of all those things. If he where to ask her to be with him, then she would miss out on so much, and so would some other lucky man. Grissom's heart tensed as he thought of the paramedic she'd supposedly been seeing. She deserved someone young and healthy, like that man.  
  
He looked away from her, not wanting her to see the tears that stung his eyes. "Grissom? Is everything OK?" He cleared his throat, composing himself. "Yeah. So.now you know. I'll likely have the surgery sometime this year. It's just a matter of when my doctor says it's time." He forced a smile. "And there you have it." She nodded slowly. "I don't know what to say.I'm sorry this happened to you." He shrugged, smiling. "Ce'st la vie, such is life. You know that; we see it everyday. Bad things happen to all types of people." "Yeah, but it's just.this is YOU...So, if you have the surgery, you'll be OK, right?" "I think so." He shut off the laptop, closing the screen. They sat in an uncomfortable silence. Sara longed to hold him, reassure him. Grissom longed to be held, longed for her arms around him. But neither of them said, or did, anything.  
  
Finally, Grissom said, "Well.I would appreciate if you wouldn't tell the rest of the team just yet-I know you won't." Sara nodded. "Of course, absolutely." "And, again, Sara-I'm so sorry that this all happened. But. thank you, for pulling me away. You saved my life." She shrugged, looking at a fray in the bedspread, picking at it with her fingers. "I would've. Anything. Anytime. Grissom.. " She turned her body toward him, placing her hand on top of his, in between them. He stared desperately into her eyes. God, how he wanted her! He'd never felt anything like this before, ever. He turned his hand underneath hers, sliding his fingers up her palm, up her wrist, caressing the underside of her forearm. Sara's heart pounded, her lips parted, waiting. Grissom inched his lips closer to her own. Her eyes were so lovely... 'STOP, Gil.' The internal voice yelled, and just as quickly as he'd begun, Grissom obeyed the voice. He quickly pulled away, feeling so many things at once that he couldn't feel anything at all. Sara's heart sank. She turned and swung her legs over the edge, hands on her knees, leaning over the edge, back to Grissom. 'Not again,' she thought, 'this is torture. Damn it, Gil, damn it.' Finding the strength to speak, she rose and said shakily, "Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning, then." She looked in the mirror above the generic hotel desk at Grissom; he was stiff and silent, hands clasped in his lap, looking down. His head barely moved in a nod. Sara's face trembled. The invisible barrier they'd spent all day breaking down, she could feel it being quickly built up again. Why? Why did this continue to happen?...  
  
Grabbing her wind breaker off a chair by the door, she walked out of the room as fast as she could without running, not wanting him to see her break down. She slammed the door behind her, harder than she'd intended. Stunned by the resounding 'SLAM' that echoed down the corridor, Sara stood in front of it, staring at the white door with the gold numbers, staring as if she could see the man inside. The image of his eyes, full of desire, boring into hers, was blazed onto her brain. Feeling as if her heart were literally cracked in two, Sara placed her hand on the door, and broke down. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she stood in front of his door, leaning on her hand, face a twisted mass of tears and pain.  
On the other side of the door, Grissom sat on his hotel bed, head in his hands, utterly defeated. He couldn't remember when he'd felt an emotional pain like this. It was as if his heart were literally cracked in two. 


	6. Confrontation chapter six

The next morning, Sara was woken by her travel alarm clock. An oldies station blared the Supremes in her ear, "You don't really need me/you just keep me hangin' on..." Sara winced, as the lyrics immediately reminded her of the previous evening. Rolling over on her side, she stared at the wall, imagining Grissom sleeping restfully on the other side. "Shitty men," she muttered, tears stinging her eyes as she made her way to the bathroom.  
  
On the other side of that wall, Grissom was tossing and turning fitfully, dreaming of a foggy circular race track, on which he and Sara ran around and around, in a monotonous and futile circle. He was gaining on her, crying her name, feeling he would collapse...she was looking back at him, her eyes filled with pain...Sara turned, running backwards, and offered her hand-he reached for it-Grissom shot up in bed, covered in sweat, as the phone rang angrily. "He picked it up, shouting an angry, groggy "YEAH?" in the receiver. "Just calling with your wake-up call, sir." "Great!" He slammed the phone down, realizing he'd yelled the clerks head off and feeling momentarily bad, but he couldn't focus on anything but one thing for very long. Sara. What had he done? He'd had Sara Sidle in his motel room, on his bed, holding his hand, ready to kiss him-and he'd let her go. He'd pushed her away. He held his head in his hands, a lump in his throat and a hollow ache in his chest. All he had to do was walk next door and make all this right.  
  
But he sat, his feet unwilling to make the journey. Grissom stared into the mirror. "You're a damaged, flawed, emotionally unintelligent old man, Gil." He loved her too much to love her. He bit his lip, feeling lost and desperate at the man inside the mirror. Surely Sara would understand, deep inside her heart. Surely she didn't really want him. For the third time since arriving in Colorado, Sara Sidle-induced tears stung his eyes. He willed them away, and stood and limped to the shower, forcing himself to think about insects. Grissom showered and dressed quickly. As he stepped towards the door, his trained investigators eye caught something blending in with the carpet. He stooped to examine it, out of habit. It was a small monarch butterfly on elephant hair cord. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before picking it up off the carpet.  
  
Down in the conference center, the morning breakfast and registration had begun. Hundreds of crime scene analysts, forensic pathologists, forensic anthropologists, forensic odontologists, forensic psychiatrists, forensic engineers, forensic entomologists, forensic histologists, forensic radiologists, and other forensic scientists roamed excitedly about the room, enjoying the continental breakfast spread as they compared cases and decided which lectures to attend that day. Sara studied the list of lectures, and put her name down next to a presentation on wildlife forensics, another about forensic skull and facial reconstruction. She scanned the list, looking for more, and her finger trailed down to the listing "'Current Advances in Forensic Entomology/The Importance of Forensic Entomology Today', presented by Dr. Gil Grissom, Ph.D.". Her heart went cold and warm all at once. She was tempted to not go, but she couldn't bring herself to be that cold. Beside, she reasoned, everyone in Vegas would want to know how Grissom's presentation had gone, so she had no choice but to attend. Squaring her jaw, she checked the box saying she'd attend. After choosing several other presentations, Sara handed in her form and picked up her name tag. She picked up a bagel and orange juice from the breakfast table, all the while trying not to admit to herself that she was subconsciously scanning the room for Grissom. 'You're here to enjoy the presence of your peers and learn more about your field, not to...get involved with Grissom.' As if on cue, a slightly heavy-set blond with a tanned complexion and shining smile came running towards her. "Sidle?" A huge smile spread across Sara's face and she set down her orange juice, exclaiming "Candace?" "Yeah, it's me! God, Sara, it's been ages! How are you?" The women embraced. "I'm-ok. It's been way to long, Kami! How are you?" "I'm really good. Come on, let's go sit down and catch up before they open the vendor hall." "Great! So are you still with the SFPD?" "Yes, I am. Made it to level three two months ago." Sara congratulated her old friend and coworker as they sat at one of the plastic tables set up in a semi- cafe' arrangement by the breakfast spread.  
  
Kami Candace had started working in San Francisco at the same time that Sara had; the rookies had grown into their field together until Grissom had called Sara to Las Vegas. Kami was a welcome reminder of happier days gone by. The two chatted happily, catching up. "So how's Vegas?" Kami asked around her orange. "I haven't heard from you for what-six, seven months?" Sara winced. "I'm sorry, Kam, it's been really hectic..." Kami waved her hand, sending a drop of orange juice off one of her French-manicured fingernails. "Don't worry about it, hon. I understand! I was just teasing you; I don't exactly have a lot of free time, myself. You know it's always nuts in California." Sara laughed ruefully, remembering. "Oh, yeah. But, anyway, yeah, Vegas is fine. Never a dull moment. You'd love it. I've come across things I never thought I would."  
  
Kami chuckled. "Gotta love the job. How'd that one case you mentioned in your last email, the guy who decomped in the duffel bag, how'd that turn out?" "We got the ass who put him in there. Poor guy...yeah, that was an experience." Sara tore off a piece of bagel, smiling in remembrance. Kami grinned. "I had my first enclosed-space decomp three weeks ago. Lots of fun. So-what happened to that guy you mentioned, the hot paramedic?" "Sara groaned. "Oh, god, Kami, please let's not talk about my love life. As for you-I see a nice Vegas-sized carat on your finger, there." She grabbed her friend's hand to have a closer look. "Oh, yeah-happened a month ago." Kami giggled like an eight grader, her eyes shining. Sara smiled. "Congrats, Kam. Is he anyone I know?" Kami's eyes twinkled. "You remember Detective Cliff Smitt?" Sara's jaw dropped. The young detective, fresh from the academy, had started at the department two weeks before Sara left. She'd only had to spend time with him once, but that was more than enough. His reputation had spread quickly among the CSI's. "What? No way! You couldn't stand him! None of us could! He was so cocky and so quick to assume-oh, my god!" Kami laughed heartily. "He was a rookie, Sar. He made up for his uncertainty about the job by being a dick. But I found a way to call his bluff. Well, actually, his stomach did." Sara grinned, puzzled. "How...?" "Well, right after you left for Nevada, I got called in to do a case with him-his first murder without help from another detective." "Oh, god-I am so glad I was gone." Kami smiled and continued. "Well, he observed the autopsy with me-ended up puking his guts out all over both of our shoes." "Oh, no." "Oh, yeah. After that, we formed a sort of bond." Sara smiled wryly. "I guess that'll do it. How romantic." "Isn't it, though? Anyway, word spread pretty quickly, and whatever super-cool, NYPD Blue-image he was trying to build for himself was pretty much destroyed. He's actually a damn good detective, still a little green, obviously, but a joy to be around and work with. Everyone loves him now." "Especially you," Sara teased. "Especially me. I'm a lucky gal" "You seem so happy-it's good to see you that way. I'm happy for you." She sipped her juice. "It's funny; I didn't picture either of us getting married; I figured we where both pretty much married to our jobs."  
  
Kami raised an eyebrow. "Cliff and I both know our jobs will always be a high priority. And, I didn't think I'd get married either, Sar. But, as amazing as my job is-it isn't any good in bed." Sara burst out laughing. "No kidding," she said somewhat angrily when she'd calmed down. Kami folded her orange peel up in a paper napkin and then leaned toward her old friend, who was looking wistfully towards the ceiling. "OK, Sara--now, let's do talk about your love life. I can tell you need to talk." Sara shifted in her chair uncomfortably, reminded of why she loved science so much more than people.  
  
Grissom entered the registration hall, gripping Sara's necklace like a lifeline in his hand. He'd hoped, even half expected, that she would wait for him to come down to registration. After futilely pounding on her door for five minutes, he had given up, shoulders slumped in defeat, ignoring a maid who looked at him as if he where a mad man as he walked down the hall. His heart pounded as he desperately searched the room full of scientists for the only one that mattered to him. He spotted her, in a cluster of plastic tables, with a woman he didn't recognize. Lines of his peers waiting to register for the day's events separated him and the breakfast area. He scanned the room, looking for an escape. The room was huge, the left wall lined with people accepting registrations, and cut in half by a huge table filled with the breakfast spread. The area behind the table was further cross sectioned, by a large sheet of sorts hanging from the ceiling. On one side of the divider was the area with plastic tables where Sara and others sat eating their bagels and waiting for the vendor hall to open at nine AM. On the other side of the sheet, conference workers where busy, beginning the assembling process for a demonstration that would take place in the room later in the day. Grissom thought it was going to be a crime scene reconstruction, or possibly a ballistics display, but couldn't tell anything yet, as the workers where just pulling dummies out of boxes. He set his eyes once again on Sara, and began walking her way, until an older man in suspenders and a bow ties stepped in front of him. "Dr. Grissom? I've got a question for you on"-Grissom quickly sidestepped the man. "I'll have a question and answer session after my lecture. I'm sorry. Excuse me." Surprised, the man let him go, wondering what his hurry was. Then he followed Grissom's line of site, a table with a two younger women, one brunette and one blond. "Ah," he said, to no one particular. "I would, too, sonny. Go get 'em." Smiling to himself and remembering, he went to retrieve his name tag.  
  
Grissom wasn't making a lot of friends as he dodged and shoved his way through the crowd. He had made it to the breakfast table, and realized that the line, which was backed clear to the table, wasn't going to move for him. A large women who towered over him by at least three inches scowled down, making it clear she wasn't going to budge. Rolling his eyes, Grissom made his way behind the table and came to the plastic dividing sheet. He could see Sara's silhouette, and hear her clear, lovely voice. She and her friend were in the table right next to the divider. Their conversation made Grissom stop. "OK, Sara, now-let's DO talk about your love life." In spite of his better judgement, he leaned towards the sheet to listen. He heard her sigh. "Do you really want to go there, Kami? Damn it, I know you do..." The other woman laughed. "OK. Well, for starters, that cute EMT was cheating on me, the whole time. I was his damn 'other woman'." Grissom's blood went cold; the other woman gasped. "What?! Oh, god, Sara, how? I'm so sorry-how'd you find out?" "I was investigating a scene he'd been at. A woman crashed her car into a restaurant, and he was there, it turns out, with his little...Yeah." The woman made sounds of empathy; Grissom couldn't believe what he was hearing. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, anger at that little bastard EMS for hurting Sara. At the table, she continued. "I found out when I was at her house, questioning her. I happened to notice a picture of them, smiling and happy as hell, at some damn beach together. They'd been together for a long time, or so she made it sound. They where practically engaged, Kam. I don't know what he was using me for." "Sara, that sucks, so much..." "I know. The sad thing is, I was just really getting into the idea of having a boyfriend, you know? Seeing him at the scene, working on the vics, I was so touched, I kept thinking what a great guy he was. I hadn't been ready for it before; I just wanted to be friends. I sort of had..." she trailed off. The woman suggested, "...Someone else in the wings?"  
  
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, he's still-well, no, I don't know what the hell he is. But, yeah, I wanted someone else more. But I guess I'd realized that Hank was there, and ready for me, and he was such a great guy, such a hero...Then I found out, about-her. So, yeah. That's my love life, Kami." Feeling as if the wind had been knocked from his sails, Grissom leaned heavily against the breakfast table, not noticing an orange that rolled lazily to the floor. His hand covered his face. 'God, I'm a fool.' He thought, thousands of emotions coursing through him. On the other side of the sheet, the woman was speaking to Sara. "Sar, I am so sorry. No one deserves that. You deserve so much better. What about this other guy?" Sara grunted. "Huh. I don't think that can even be defined in words." "Who is he?" He heard her sigh, a deep, pain-filled gust of air, as if she needed more strength than she had to even mention his name. "Well...do you remember Gil Grissom?" "Your mentor? The one with the gorgeous eyes?" "Yeah, that's him." "He's the one that called you to Vegas...Oh, Sara, you still have a thing for him?" He watched her silhouette when she didn't speak; she gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Like I said, Kami, it's a long, drawn-out story." "I'd love to hear it." "I know, but I"-Grissom was startled by the sound of a shrill whistle, alerting them that the vendor hall was opening for business. He watched through the sheet as Sara and her friend got up and walked to the hall; he could no longer hear their conversation.  
  
He realized the butterfly necklace was still in his hand; he fingered it lovingly before putting it in his pocket and walking to the vendor hall. 


	7. Confrontation chapter seven

Sara and Kami continued their conversation as they walked through  
  
the rows of vendors, pitching the latest in forensic software and  
  
devices, or peddled subscriptions to forensic journals. Kami accepted  
  
a pamphlet on the newest tread identification software without even  
  
looking at the salesman who handed it to her, her eyes focused on her  
  
old friend as Sara told the long story of her non-affair with  
  
Grissom. They had made their way through ten rows of booths, and Sara  
  
finished the story, ending it with the previous evenings encounter.  
  
She felt exhausted. Though a little more social than Grissom, Sara  
  
wasn't used to sharing so much with other breathing humans. She  
  
considered Nick her closest friend on the team, and even he didn't  
  
know a good majority of her inner thoughts and past. She stopped and  
  
admired the most advanced model of the Nikon microscope. "Wow, theses are amazing! I'd kill for one at the lab!...But, yeah. There you have it, Kami. He  
  
pushed me away, just like he always has, and always will." She  
  
stuffed an information packet on the microscope into a plastic  
  
bag. "Oh, honey..." Kami's heart went out to her old friend. "Have  
  
you ever out and out told him about your feelings for him? It sounds  
  
like you guys do a lot of side-stepping around each other." Sara bit  
  
her lip. "No, I haven't." Kami groaned. "Well, my dear, if you really  
  
want this guy, if he's really worth your time, you'd better do  
  
something." Sara scowled. "It's not that easy, Kam." She picked a  
  
brochure up from the table next to her without even bothering to look  
  
at what it was about. "Ma'am-I'm sorry, but you just took a handful  
  
of those, and I'm running low. Two per person, max, please." Sara's  
  
head snapped up in surprise. "Oh, sorry..." she mumbled to the  
  
salesman, putting them back and quickly walking away. Kami smiled  
  
sympathetically after Sara. "She's got it bad," the woman said aloud  
  
to no one in particular, a smile playing upon her lips. "Huh?" The  
  
vendor next to her asked rudely. Kami frowned at him and hurried to  
  
catch up to Sara. She fell back in to step with her friend. Taking  
  
the hint that Sara was finished with the subject for some time, Kami  
  
began to ramble on about the microscopes at the San Francisco lab.  
  
Sara barely heard a word she said. Inside, she knew Kami was right. Now was the time, and the place, for a confrontation on her feelings.  
  
Tonight, she was going to confront Grissom, and settle things once  
  
and for all.  
Grissom wandered around the huge hall for half an hour, without  
  
seeing any sign of Sara. His heart sank. He would have been content  
  
to search all day until he found her, but his watch reminded him that  
  
he was there for a purpose besides Sara. Grissom went to meet with  
  
the lecture coordinators and find out how many people would be  
  
attending his presentation. After that business was attended to, he  
  
went up to his room to gather up everything he'd need to set up.  
  
As he headed out the door, arms full, his cell phone rang, startling  
  
him. He dumped everything back on the bed and pulled the phone out of  
  
his pocket, flipping it open. "Grissom," "Grissom, Catherine. Say,  
  
sorry to bother you, but Nick and I can't find the file for the  
  
murder at the Zia Casino, the one four months ago? We think the cases  
  
might be linked." "Really?" Grissom said, excited. He told Catherine  
  
where he'd filed the case. "Great...it should be up on the third  
  
shelf, Nicky...yeah! There it is. Thanks, Gil, we got it." "Great!  
  
He, give me a call when you get the guy, if it's before I'm back,  
  
would you? Just leave me a voice mail if I don't answer." "Will do.  
  
So, how's Colorado. Are you being nice? Where's Sara?" Grissom  
  
sighed, ignoring Catherine's first question. "I don't know where she  
  
is." "She's not with you?" "Not right now, no." "You didn't screw  
  
anything up again, did you?" "What?!" "Look, Griss, you're going to  
  
loose her. Make things right before you come home. I've got to go.  
  
Talk to you later." "Catherine, I don't"-she hung up. He closed his  
  
eyes, taking a deep breath.  
  
Hours passed by. Grissom attended a presentation on forensic  
  
odontology's new database layout before he finished preparations  
  
setting up for is own lecture. Soon, it was almost two, and Grissom waited  
  
patiently on the podium as his attendees filed in. He looked up from  
  
his note cards just in time to see Sara, the blonde woman from this  
  
morning walking beside her. His heart pounded in excitement; he'd  
  
been so afraid she wouldn't come. She took his breath away in a  
  
simple burgundy button-down shirt and black slacks. As he watched  
  
her, longing filling him to the brim, she looked up, catching his  
  
eye, and quickly looked away. He couldn't ignore the pain he saw in  
  
her gaze, and the fact that he'd caused most of it. All he wanted was  
  
to leave the podium and go hold her, tell her how sorry he was and  
  
how much he wanted her, loved her. But a convention worker was  
  
closing the doors to the room, and it was time for his presentation  
  
to begin.  
  
It was a successful, well-received presentation. Sara's heart  
  
stirred with pride and happiness for Gil, and she was impressed  
  
herself-but she tried not to acknowledge any feeling having to do  
  
with Grissom. Kami watched Sara out of the corner of her eye, seeing  
  
Sara's restless manner, and catching her several times gazing  
  
longingly at the blue-eyed man on the podium.  
  
Grissom displayed the last slide and stood quietly to receive his  
  
applause. "Thank you. I'll open up the discussion for questions and  
  
answers now." He fielded questions for half an hour. He had answered  
  
one pathologists query on pupa casings when an elderly man in  
  
clashing suspenders and a bow-tie raised his gnarled hand. "Yes, sir?  
  
Name, occupation, location and question, please?" Grissom replied,  
  
nodding to him. "Yes, sonny, Dr. Gerald Wordsworth, MD, forensic  
  
pathologist from Maryland here-that fine young man just asked the  
  
question I was wanting to know earlier." Grissom's face flushed,  
  
remembering pushing the man rudely out of the way. "OK, Doctor, did  
  
you have any questions or comments to add to that?" "No, Dr. Grissom,  
  
you answered just fine, but that scientist you just quoted, I'd like  
  
to read more of his article. Could you cite your source, please?"  
  
Grissom found Sara's face in the audience, and tried to keep a  
  
straight face, thinking of the day on the plane, and Ken Fuller...  
  
Sara knew immediately what he was thinking, and a smile played upon  
  
her own lips, filling Grissom's heart with joy. If she could still  
  
smile at him, maybe there was still hope. He answered the  
  
pathologists' question, never taking his eyes away from Sara. Dr.  
  
Wordsworth smiled as he returned to his seat, not minding Grissom's  
  
inattentiveness in the least little bit.  
  
Kami grinned at her friend, thinking, `Oh, yeah, he's got it bad,  
  
too,'  
  
Grissom wrapped up the presentation, promising himself that tonight,  
  
he would confront Sara, and try his damndest to make things right,  
  
once and for all. 


	8. Confrontation chapter eight

The rest of the day passed quickly. Sara walked into the room for the wildlife forensics presentation and sat down. She busied herself arranging her notes from the last lecture, and jumped when a soft voice said very close to her ear, "Hey." She whipped her head up, and found herself nose-to- nose with Grissom. Her heart rate instantly shot up, but she was determined not to let it show. "Hey," she nonchalantly looked back down at her notes. "I'm surprised to find you at this lecture." "Why is that?" He rested his arm protectively on the back of her chair, which didn't help her increasing heart rate any. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body; smell his distinct, soft smell. It turned her on more than she could ever imagine. Her head felt hazy, and she had to force herself to concentrate on her notes. Clearing her throat, "Um.I don't know. It just doesn't seem very.Grissom, I guess, wildlife forensics." Grissom inhaled deeply, his nose so close to her hair he could almost feel the silky strands brushing his face. Her shampoo was intoxicating, the curve of her ear erotically inviting. He was tempted to throw her down across the chairs, and.He cleared his own throat. "Why not? It's a relatively new field in forensics. I'm interested in anything new in  
  
our field, you know that. I'm a scientist. There is nothing I'm not interested in, as a scientist; I want to know everything about everything." He looked at her intently, and she looked down, fiddling with her papers. 'That was a stupid thing to say, Sara,' she thought to herself, and was trying to think of something to say that would sound halfway intelligent to justify her earlier comment, but Grissom interrupted her train of thought. "And.I knew you'd be interested in it. I remember how the case with the gorilla that was killed for bush meat affected you." Taken aback, Sara looked at him, the closeness of his blue eyes making her blood pump terribly fast. "Really?" she said, sounding almost childlike in her disbelief. "Yes, 'really'." He held her gaze, until the presenter asked for the lights to be dimmed, and started his slide show. Sara watched intently, aware of Grissom's eyes still focused on her. She sat very still, trying to pay attention to the presenter's words, but loving the feeling of being taken in by Grissom, his eyes trailing her body up and down, as if she where a rare statue or artifact, something to be treasured.   
  
When the presenter paused in his speech to give hand-outs, Grissom leaned into Sara's ear. "Sara, we need to talk, tonight." She turned, her nose again almost touching his. "I know." Their noses brushed in the dark, sending sparks of electricity down each of their spines, lips slightly apart, breath mingling in anticipation of things to come. Sara slid one of her hands tentatively onto Gil's thigh, making him lean his body instinctively towards hers, letting a soft sound escape his lips. Sara's eyes burned into his. Grissom wanted to be inside of her, yet wanted to remain that way forever, all at the same time. He jumped when the person sitting next to him tapped him on the arm impatiently, holding the handouts, indicating Grissom needed to take one and pass it down the row. Annoyed that the spell had been broken, he took the papers.  
Leaning back in her seat, Sara took a deep breath, thinking that the rest of the night seemed years away.  
Two more presentations followed before the day ended on Grissom and Sara's itineraries; the last one, Grissom and Sara attended together. They filed out of the room, with the other scientists, in an awkward silence. Grissom broke it, sounding as if he felt somewhat out of place. "Well, do you want to skip the dinner here? There's a quiet-looking Italian place across from the hotel." He was reminded of that feeling, of being a nervous, hormonally- charged high school kid asking a girl on a date.  
Sara didn't seem to be picking up on his discomfort, he noted; but inside, she was somewhat taken aback by his manor. Was Grissom asking her out on a date? Her heart pounded like she was a high-school girl who'd just been asked out by the captain of the football team. But she nodded, knowing as Grissom did that it would be difficult to hold any kind of serious conversation in the midst of the huge dining hall with their peers surrounding them. This, she reasoned, was the only excuse for his suggesting another location. It was good thinking. And, she wanted to be with Grissom, alone-though she ignored that persistent thought.  
"Sure, that sounds great. I'm not all that hungry, anyway." "Neither am  
  
I." They continued on in silence, not sure where the evening would take  
  
them, or what to say. Finally, Sara turned at the elevators. "We should probably drop our stuff off in our rooms." "Good idea." They rode the elevator in silence.  
After putting the various pamphlets, brochures, samples, and notes they'd inquired from the days events in their respective rooms, they went to the restaurant. It was a quaint, dark place with a thick, spicy, heavenly aroma laying on the air. A jukebox by the front counter played a country song Sara didn't recognize, and photos of dancing tomatoes and herbs lining the walls. The tables where metal with round marble tops; matching chairs where large and hard and squeaked like nails on a chalkboard when a patron stood to leave. Grissom raised an eyebrow and pointed to a few out of the way red plastic booths that sat towards the back of the little restaurant. "We'd like to sit back there," he told the perky dark-haired waitress who greeted them. They slid into opposite sides of the booth and accepted their menus. A candle stuck into a fat wine bottle separated them. Grissom admired Sara's face behind the candlelight as she glanced at the menu. "This is such a cute place.And it smells great in here. I might be hungry after all." She looked up, giving him her charming gap-toothed grin. She was surprised by the adoration in his eyes, and once again found that she couldn't stop looking at him, until the waitress returned to take their order. They ate-vegetarian lasagna for Sara, regular lasagna for Gil- without talking too much, mostly small talk about the day's events. Inside each head, they where gathering their thoughts for later on. When they'd finished their meals, they where almost relieved to see the waitress return and offer desert; they ordered ice cream, each secretly glad to be procrastinating the inevitable conversation to come. But soon, Grissom and Sara's spoons rested quietly in empty bowls on the edge of the table. The chemicals between them buzzed in the air, begging for a confrontation, a resolution. Taking a deep breath, Sara stood, and to Grissom's surprise, scooted next to him in the booth.  
She sat with one leg underneath her, torso facing him. "Well.before we're here all evening, I'll start." He chuckled nervously, fingering his glass, waiting for her to begin. "Grissom, I know there's something going on between us, and I think we need to get it out in the open. I know you know it, too. We can't pretend any more." Unable to speak, and half holding his breath, he stared at her, and nodded. But Sara didn't speak, waiting for him to do something. He realized what she was doing, and felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. 'Move, Gil'. His mouth obeyed his brain's command. "Sara, I.I need to tell you, that I heard part of your conversation this morning with your former co-worker. What did you say her name was, Kami?" Sara frowned. "Yeah, Kami.what do you mean, you heard part of our conversation?" He swallowed. "I didn't intend to, Sara. But I was looking for you, and.I heard what you said, about Hank, and what he did to you." "Wait, you where eavesdropping on me?" He swallowed. "I didn't intend to, Sara. But I was looking for you, and.I heard the story about Hank, how he used you. And that you.had feelings for me." Her eyes widened, and she looked away. "Oh." "I'm sorry, Sara. You have every right to be angry with me. I didn't mean to listen. I was just.I shouldn't have stood there." She was confused. "What.? You're not making any sense, Grissom." "I know. But, listen-I'm glad I heard it, because, Sara, I." He took a deep breath, then another. Sara tried not to smile, somehow  
  
enjoying his discomfort. She knew she should be angry at him, as if he'd  
  
invaded her privacy, but in a way she was happy that he'd heard. It would  
  
save her from needing to work up the courage to say the words-which  
  
Grissom was finding very difficult to do. Her emotions where at a standstill as she waited, wanting to hear his words before she reacted. She wanted to analyze him, slowly, like a fiber at a crime scene. It was so easy, she mused, to listen to the silent dialogue of a corpse; it wasn't easy to admit something to another  
  
human being. Especially something that had been lying inside your heart and growing for so long.Sara touched his arm lightly. "Gil?..." He took her  
  
hand, rehearsing his words in his head.  
Sara had never seen him like this, didn't even know that Gil Grissom could be like this, so unsure of himself, so nervous. But she wasn't surprised. Sara knew that many at the lab believed Grissom to be perfectly detached from his emotions. She'd once overheard some female lab techs gossiping about the men in the lab. Her ears had perked when it came time to discuss Grissom. One of the young chemists had said, "He's got a great body for an old guy, but can you imagine, like, dating him? He's got to be the worst person in the world to have a relationship with. I don't think he could be sensitive if he tried." The other girl had started in, "I know; he sees everything in words, not thoughts." Then they had started in on Nick, and she'd had to leave the room. The two girls' conversation had weighed on Sara's mind all day. She knew the way Grissom presented himself to the world, and she knew the Grissom that was underneath-she had seen first-hand the emotions coursing through him at scenes where children had suffered. She had seen him, prepared to fight to the death for what he believed in. She'd seen him buck the system to protect the victim. Underneath the mind of a scientist beat a heart full of passion that few people where ever privileged enough to view. Grissom lived for the injustices of the world, because he wanted to fix them, whether he realized it or not. He truly had a heart for the victim. Despite the cold, unemotional, analytical Grissom that the lab saw, Sara knew that another world lay inside Grissom, one she lived to gaze inside of, even if it was only for a moment.  
  
Holding her hand, Grissom spoke. "Sara, I'm sorry that that man hurt you.  
  
You are too precious, too. wonderful-you should never have had to experience something like that." Tears stung her eyes; she let him finish, her heart pounding. Was this really happening?... "But, to be honest, Sara, I'm so glad I heard what you said, because it means that you're.that you're not with him any longer"-- "Grissom, we where never really 'together'-" "I know. Let me finish, Sara." She waited.  
"God, I've got to just SAY it.Sara, I want you. I have, ever since I first met you." He took her other hand with his other hand, holding on to both of them as if  
  
his life depended on it. "More than that, I NEED you-I can't promise you anything, I can't.god, Sara, I'm so BAD at this." she squeezed his hand; they laughed a little. "I wish I could say something awe-inspiring, Sara, but I'm just not.I'm not a poet. I wish I was. You deserve so much better than me, which is why I've never told you anything, never approached you.I figured I had to let you go, to Hank, because he's everything I'm not. I thought he was what you needed. I wish I'd known he was such a jackass, and spared you from that pain." Touched, Sara whispered "thank you", her heart still pounding in her ears, aware of nothing but the struggling man in front of her. He held her hand tightly as he went on. "I don't know people very well, Sara. I only know them at the cellular level. I can tell you how your heart is beating, I can tell you how many bones are in your spinal column, and I can tell you how and why lividity is formed at death. But I don't know how to deal with things beyond that. I'm a scientist, Sara. I know science, and I know I've felt something between you and I, and I had to know what it was, even though it's not scientific, I.Shit, I'm still not making any sense. I just needed to tell you." He looked physically pained.  
  
Sara's heart melted, the tears in her eyes forcing her way through as she thought about how hard this was for him. "Oh, god, Gil." "I need to finish, Sara. I-I hate to think of the way Hank hurt you. He didn't deserve you, at all. But, Sara-I haven't been able to tell you how I feel about you, because I know, I know that I don't deserve you either. You deserve someone so much better than me, Sara. I'm.I'm not good enough for you." he trailed off, looking at the candle. Sara could feel his hands trembling; she gently removed one of her hands from his and turned his face back towards hers. "Grissom, how could you think that? I've wanted you, too, wanted to be with you, ever since you first came into my life. Why would you think.Grissom, is this about your hearing?" He swallowed, pulling his face out of her hand, and looking down at the hand still cradled inside of his. "Sara.that's a large part of it, but it's so much more than that." He removed his hands from their grasp and leaned on the table, head in his palms. Sara ached for him, for them. "Grissom.Gil. Please, look at me. Listen. You're not deaf yet." It made him smile, although a look of horror spread across her face. "Oh, god, I didn't mean it like that!..." "I know you didn't. It's OK. It was.cute." "Oh, gees, Grissom." she sighed, laughing despite herself, feeling some of the tension and passion in the air diffuse. He rubbed her arm, smiling. "What I meant was, I...please listen. You had your say, now it's my turn."  
  
He took a sip of water, and watched her, her brown eyes nervous, her pretty face pensive. "Gil, I don't care about your hearing. I mean, I will worry about you, but it won't change how I've felt about you." He let her take his hand, and she could feel his pulse, his heart beating rapidly. He felt a sense of wonder, hoping with all his might that this wasn't a dream. "How could you think that I'd be superficial enough to really give a damn about something like that, Gil?" Her tone wasn't angry, but she spoke to him with an air of vital seriousness, as if she was questioning a suspect. "I have always had nothing but respect for you. You could be blind, deaf, AND dumb, I wouldn't care. You are such an amazing man...That will never change. And the more I've known you, the respect has grown. It grew into a friendship that I couldn't survive without, and then it grew into...this. I don't know exactly what 'this' is, either, but I want to explore it and find out." She caressed his face. "We think so much alike. I don't know where I'd be without you. If you hadn't come into my life, I'd...I'd be at such a loss...Grissom, do you realize what you mean to me, in so many different ways? I don't care how old you are, I don't care what sort of disorders you've got swimming in your genetics, I don't care if you're bad with people. So am I. It's one of the things we can share, grow though. I don't care what anyone else thinks. All I care about is being with you, every day. I need you, too, Grissom." His clear blue eyes shone, and he beamed at her; reaching out, he pulled her tightly to him, crushing her to his chest.  
"God, Sara, you don't know how happy you've just made me." He kissed her hair, and held her for several minutes. She closed her eyes, loosing herself in him, enjoying the feel of his muscles, the pounding of his heart. As he held her, she was aware for the first time of the rest of the world. Completely relaxed in him, she could hear the music coming from the jukebox. As a new song started up, she recognized the opening strains and smiled. Everything was almost too perfect. Pulling gently out of his grasp, she smiled at him. "Come dance with me." He laughed nervously, a dear-in- headlights look on his handsome face. "Sara, I'm not a dancer. Really. Never have, never could." She stood, pulling his arm. "You don't have to dance, dance; just hold me, sway to the music-and listen to the lyrics. Please." She grinned as he reluctantly agreed. "Only for you, Sara Sidle." "Thank you." She pulled him to the middle of the restaurant, and made her way to the jukebox.  
  
Stopping a waitress who passed by with an order pad, she asked, "Excuse me, can you start this song again-and turn up the volume?" The young server popped her gum and shrugged. "Sure, but I'll have to stop it all together first, and you'll have to give the thing fifty cents, start playing the song over." "Great! No problem." Sara dug into her pocket and pulled out some change, waiting as the girl pushed a button on the back of the machine, and fiddled with the volume control. A loud 'hey!' sounded from a table by the window, a patron whom Sara guessed had played the song in the first place. "I'm turning it back on," she called in the direction of the voice, focusing on the list of songs. She found it, and deposited her money, pushing the buttons.  
Grissom stood awkwardly on the 'dance' floor, waiting. Sara smiled, walking to him, placing his arms around her waist, and her arms around his neck. "Remember-just sway to the music, listen to the lyrics, and hold me. It's not rocket science." She grinned, and he returned the smile. "Well, rocket science might be easier, but...this I can do." She led him in a gentle motion in time to the beat as the music began, and they stared into each others eyes as the words began.  
''You could say I lost my faith in science and progress/You could say I lost my belief in the holy church/You could say I lost my sense of direction/You could say all of this and worse but/If I ever lose my faith in you/There'd be nothing left for me to do/Some would say I was a lost man in a lost world/You could say I lost my faith in the people on TV/You could say I'd lost my belief in our politicians/They all seemed like game show hosts to me/If I ever lose my faith in you/There'd be nothing left for me to do/I could be lost inside their lies without a trace/But every time I close my eyes I see your face/I never saw no miracle of science/That didn't go from a blessing to a curse/I never saw no military solution/That didn't always end up as something worse but/Let me say this first/If I ever lose my faith in you/There'd be nothing left for me to do''  
Grissom smiled as the song faded, and leaned down toward Sara's face. She accepted his silent invitation and rose slightly on the balls of her feet, and their lips met for the first time. It felt like an amazing new discovery, being together in this way, yet it felt as natural as if they'd done it for years. 


	9. Confrontation chapter nine

They stood, frozen in time, enjoying the feel of their lips pressed together. Nothing else existed but this moment in time. Slowly, the kiss ended. Afraid to open her eyes in case she would wake up from the dream, Sara ran her fingers along the nape of his neck, making him moan softly. Her heart pounded, and blood ran faster throughout her body. She opened her eyes, meeting his, and he ran his hand gently along the curve of her cheek, then letting the hand run through her hair. He stared at her with new eyes. Twisting a strand of her hair around his finger, he stared down at her flushed face, opened his mouth and began to quote, " '.He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch, she blossomed for him like a flower, and the incarnation was complete.'" Sara beamed. "And you said you weren't a poet, Gil Grissom." He smiled softly. "I'm not-F. Scott Fitzgerald is, though." She laughed. "Well, I'd rather have you." Their lips met once more, longer this time, taking time to explore regions yet un navigated. As they pulled away, Grissom was reminded of the legend of how the tradition of kissing in the marriage ceremony had come to be. He'd read that it was believed during the Renaissance that when the couple kissed, for the first time on their wedding day, that their souls mingled and became one with the exchange of breath. When he'd first heard it, Grissom had dismissed the myth as a quaint historical legend, something that was unrealistic and ridiculous, but to be stored in the file of historical trivia in his head. Now, he thought, he might just know what those medieval couples had been talking about.  
  
As their lips broke for the second time, Sara leaned her head contentedly against Grissom's chest, sighing peacefully. The jukebox played "A Soft Place to Fall". Speaking into his chest, Sara said, "The song I wanted you to hear is over, Grissom. We don't have to dance anymore." He answered her, and she felt a thrill at hearing his voice vibrate through his ribcage, absorbing the richness of his voice, melting into his warmth. "I know." She lifted her head and smiled up at him as they rocked gently to the music. Grissom kept looking at her, his face full of wonder. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so happy. And, Sara knew, the same look of elation was on her face, a happiness she'd never felt before.  
  
After awhile, Sara broke the reverie. Her hands were on his shoulders, his hands on her waist, as they danced. Grissom would never have imagined he'd enjoy this as much as he was, but he figured it was the company more than anything. His lips twitched in a smile as he thought of what Brass would say if he saw Grissom right then, swaying to the music of a jukebox with Sara Sidle.  
  
He watched her face. "What's on your mind, Sara?" he asked softly, reaching up a hand to run a finger gently on her lips, then placed it under her chin. She answered. "I was just.thinking about some things." "Like what?" "Well.first of all.I owe you an apology." He frowned "For what?" "Well, earlier on, I was just thinking about how wrong everyone is, the people who don't really know you, for accusing you of being.I don't know, cold? For not caring. And I know.I did the same thing, more than once. And I know you, and I know with all my heart that it's not true. If I could take back what I said, I would. So.I'm sorry, Gil." He smiled, loving the sound of her voice saying his first name. "Sara, you don't owe me anything. I owe you an apology. I just.I can't change the way I am." "I know. It's OK. I wouldn't have you any different, Dr. Grissom." He grinned, leaning and gently kissing her forehead. "Also, I hate to bring this up, but I need to know.There where a lot of rumors going around the lab about you and the dominatrix who employed those vics." He winced, his expression cutting her off. "Sara, I.I've made a lot of mistakes. That was one of them. I don't regret knowing Lady Heather. She's a fascinating woman who reads people very well, and she's very good at what she does." He stopped, face turning red even as Sara's went hard. "I mean, her business.Anyway, I.Um. I was drawn to her at the time. I don't know why. Maybe it was because she was safe, in that she was flawed, like I am, and I thought maybe that was what I was meant to have. I put the thought of having you by my side away a long time ago, Sara. But, I think Lady Heather sensed my hearing disorder, in some odd way. And for that one night.I don't know. I was tired of being who I was, and she was there. It's done, and I can't change it. I can say I'm sorry, but it won't change anything." He studied Sara's face; she was staring skeptically at his chest, studying the fibers of his shirt. He once again raised her chin gently, tipping her face towards him. "What I can say is that you are here with me now, and I can promise you that in my.heart, that's all I really wanted." Sara smiled, noticing his hesitation at saying the word 'heart'. This was foreign territory for Grissom and Sara, but Sara knew there was no one she'd rather explore it with than Grissom.  
  
He peered into her eyes, worriedly, afraid he'd ruined everything. To reassure him, she pulled his head towards hers and kissed him passionately. He returned and deepened the kiss. She felt like a magnet to his steel, moaning into his mouth, overtaken with desire and a lot of other things she'd never felt before, not in this way, not this deeply.  
  
A group of teenagers walked past the embracing couple on their way out the door. They snickered. "Dude, get a room!" one of them said, tapping Grissom on the arm as they walked away. Grissom broke the kiss, head reeling from desire. The group of kids where his first indication that a universe existed outside of the one he'd created with Sara. He pulled his face away from hers long enough to call, perhaps a bit too loud, "We HAVE a room!" Despite the passion of the moment, Sara burst out laughing, her arms around Grissom's neck, hugging him. At her outburst, he began laughing himself, and they stood, laughing, foreheads together, not noticing or caring about the looks from the other people in the restaurant.  
  
This was one of the many things Sara loved about Grissom. She couldn't think of any other man she'd dated who would freely make out with her in front of fifteen people eating pizza on a Saturday night, then defend their right to do so. She had always admired his complete and utter disregard for what anyone else thought of him or his actions. Whether it was throwing dummies of the top of a casino or kissing her in the middle of an Italian resteraunt in Colorado, Grissom knew who he was and what he was about, and if anyone else didn't like it, to hell with them. Sara had found that attitude sexy as hell from the first day she met him.  
  
He grinned at her now, somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry." She laughed again. "Don't be." She put her hand on his face and kissed him again before she spoke. "Actually, Gris, we have two rooms." He kissed her cheek, forehead and nose in a soft circle before returning to her lips, kissing her with a passion that truly left her breathless. "Sara," he said, when he'd left her gasping for air, eyes half-hooded and full of fire, "the state of Nevada is paying for your hotel room. Please, sleep with me tonight." 


	10. Confrontation chapter ten

Sara's heart skipped at least three beats. "Did you just ask.?" He  
  
smiled, his cheeks flushing slightly, something very charming that  
  
Sara rarely saw. She gently stroked his cheek with the back of her  
  
hand. He felt lost in her eyes, lost in the moment. Finally, he  
  
explained himself. "Sara, I don't want you to think that I'm asking  
  
you to...do something you're not ready to do. We're just starting  
  
this..." He lovingly ran his hands along her arms, examining her body  
  
up and down, his eyes hungry and full of adoration. She could feel  
  
the heat of his body, and knew his need matched her own. Her heart  
  
seemed to beat even faster than it had all evening, if that was  
  
possible.  
  
Grissom forced himself to control his breathing. He had been  
  
intimate with relatively few women in his life for a man his age-  
  
hell, he reasoned, Nick and Warrick had probably slept with more  
  
women than he had, and he definitely had a few years on them. It  
  
wasn't that he had less testosterone or thought about sex less than  
  
any other men, it was simply that somewhere deep inside, he longed  
  
for the old romance in the Shakespearean plays he knew by heart.  
  
Grissom lived for seeing the worst sides of humanity, and he wanted  
  
to believe that there was a side of life, a place buried in time,  
  
where two people could get away from the gritty, painful world on the  
  
streets and escape in each other. And that was why he had always  
  
ignored the meaningless relationships and one-night stands his peers  
  
crowed about in locker-rooms and during coffee break. Up till now,  
  
though, the scientist had hoped such a thing existed, but hadn't  
  
expected to find it himself. But as much as he wanted Sara, he wanted  
  
her to know that he respected and treasured her. He didn't want to  
  
frighten her, and wanted to wait as long as it took, wanted to put  
  
her needs before his own wants. And his body definatley knew what it  
  
wanted.  
  
Sara's fingers ruffled gently though his curly hair, her eyes  
  
watching him, her face peaceful, happy. He was relieved that she  
  
hadn't slapped him. Pulling her closer, Grissom said, "Don't think  
  
I'm asking you to sleep with me for any...un-noble reason, Sara. I  
  
just don't want to spend the night knowing that you're a wall away  
  
from me. I want to watch you sleep, and know that you're safe with  
  
me." For what seemed like the thousandth time that evening, Sara's  
  
heart melted with his words. "Grissom...Yes." It was all she could  
  
think of to say, her thoughts lost in a sea of emotion. He smiled,  
  
relief washing over his handsome features. He pulled her as tight  
  
against him as he could, thrilling at the sensation of her breasts  
  
against his chest, her cheek pressed to his. "Let's stay for one more  
  
song..." he whispered into her ear. She smiled against his  
  
neck. "Yeah."  
  
A group of twenty-something's had come into the restaurant and had  
  
spent several dollars on the jukebox, ensuring they had enough music  
  
to last all evening. They sat at one of the round, noisy, metal  
  
tables enjoying their beers and waiting for their pizza, curiously  
  
watching the couple swaying to the music in the middle of the floor.  
  
As the next song started, one of the young men stood, pulling his  
  
girlfriend with him, and leading her to a spot beside Grissom and  
  
Sara. One of the other guys noticed the wistful look on his own  
  
girlfriend's face, and took his cue to play Don Juan, leading her up  
  
to dance, as well.  
  
Sara noticed none of this, lost in the world of Grissom. She beamed  
  
up at his face, running her palms along his chest, making him gasp,  
  
loving the feeling of his muscles beneath his shirt. She wrapped her arms  
  
around his wide chest, which she'd always found incredibly sexy.  
  
Laying against him, feeling the beating of his heart, she lost  
  
herself in his eyes and listened to the lyrics of the song. "How can  
  
you see into my eyes like open doors/leading you down into my  
  
core/where I've become so numb/without a soul/my spirit sleeping  
  
somewhere cold /until you find it there and lead it back home/(Wake  
  
me up)/Wake me up inside/(I can't wake up)/Wake me up inside/(Save  
  
me)/call my name and save me from the dark  
  
(Wake me up)/bid my blood to run/(I can't wake up)/before I come  
  
undone  
  
(Save me)/save me from the nothing I've become..." Grissom titled his  
  
head down, brushing his lips against Sara's, barely making contact,  
  
enjoying the electricity it sent down his spine. Not moving his lips  
  
away from hers, he whispered, "I'm so glad you came to Colorado with  
  
me. I'm so glad you confronted me. God, Sara, I don't know what I'd  
  
be without you." She responded by pushing her head up so their lips  
  
met full-on, her nails digging into his back through his shirt,  
  
kissing him so hard he moaned into her throat. The urgency of the song seemed to match the urgency of their kiss. "Now that I know what  
  
I'm without/you can't just leave me/breathe into me and make me  
  
real/bring me to life/(Wake me up)/Wake me up inside/(I can't wake  
  
up)/Wake me up inside/(Save me)/call my name and save me from the  
  
dark/(Wake me up)  
  
bid my blood to run/(I can't wake up)/before I come undone/(Save  
  
me)/save me from the nothing I've become/frozen inside without your  
  
touch without your love darling only you are the life among the  
  
dead/all this time I can't believe I couldn't see/kept in the dark  
  
but you were there in front of me/I've been sleeping a thousand years  
  
it seems/got to open my eyes to everything  
  
without a thought without a voice without a soul/don't let me die  
  
here/there must be something more/bring me to life/(Wake me up)/Wake  
  
me up inside/(I can't wake up)/Wake me up inside/(Save me)/call my  
  
name and save me from the dark/(Wake me up)/bid my blood to run/(I  
  
can't wake up)/before I come undone/(Save me)/save me from the  
  
nothing I've become/(Bring me to life)  
  
I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside /(Bring me to life)"  
  
Sara and Grissom came up from air as the song ended. "Let's go,"  
  
Sara whispered, her body tense with passion, holding Gil's shirt in  
  
crumpled handfuls behind his back. He couldn't speak, only nod. In a  
  
daze, they untangled from each other and retrieved their things from  
  
the booth. Grissom wrote a quick check with a tip and left it on the  
  
table. They left the warm, hazy Italian place and stepped into the  
  
cool night air, Grissom's arm fiercely around Sara's shoulder, her  
  
hip molded to his. Sara stopped walking. "Griss..." One of Sara's  
  
arms was behind Grissom's back, the other hand rested on his chest.  
  
She gently traced his bicep with her index finger, making his head  
  
reel for a brief moment. It was all he could do not to lean her  
  
against the restaurant and take her in the middle of the Colorado  
  
street. No woman had ever had this effect on him; for the first time,  
  
he'd lost control of his emotions and his body--and he never wanted  
  
it to stop. "Yes?" His voice was hoarse as he looked down into her  
  
brown eyes, flaming and vulnerable. "I'm glad I came, too. So glad."  
  
He turned and grabbed her, hugging her so close and with so much  
  
emotion that it touched her heart. He pulled back, and held her face  
  
in his hands. "I can't apolagize enough.I'm sorry I'm the way I am, Sara. I'm sorry I waited  
  
so long. If I could go back, I would have asked you to be with me  
  
when I first saw you, when you were my student. I wouldn't have  
  
second-guessed everything, I wouldn't have pushed you, and the idea  
  
of being with you aside...I'm so sorry. And I almost did it again,  
  
last night, and before...If I'd brought Catherine, or Nick, I might  
  
have never"-She pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhh. No. You know  
  
what? Tonight, Grissom, let's you and I just not think. We spend so  
  
much time thinking, thinking too much...All we do is think. For this  
  
one night, let's not be scientists. Let's just be you and me, in  
  
Colorado Springs; let's just live for the moment, and for what we  
  
feel, even though it's scary...scary as hell. I know it is. But I  
  
just want to be with you, and forget about my brain. One night. Can  
  
you do that with me? Can you try, for me?" Grissom ran his hands down  
  
off her face, along her shoulders, down her arms, his wrists brushing  
  
her breasts, and she gasped. Yes, it was scary. For two people who  
  
lived for thoughts, who lived there days ruled by the brain...But  
  
there was no doubt in Grissom's mind. There was nothing else, no  
  
other way he could spend this evening.  
  
Hand in hand, Grissom and Sara walked to the hotel. 


	11. Confrontation chapter eleven

Chapter 11 As they walked through the hotel, the night air had cooled their passion slightly, and an unspoken agreement of sorts  
  
formed between them. Despite the fire that had coursed through their bodies,  
  
Grissom and Sara knew that tonight wouldn't be the night. Tonight  
  
would be a night for talking, and for falling asleep in each other's  
  
arms, getting to know one another better in this new way, enjoying  
  
it.  
  
They entered Grissom's room. Sara sat on the bed, leaning back,  
  
stretching and yawning loudly. Grissom smiled. "Did I put you to  
  
sleep? I didn't think my company was THAT bad," he teased, flipping  
  
on the TV and turning to the digital radio stations the hotel  
  
featured. He settled on the `modern soft rock' channel and Sade's  
  
soothing voice filled the room. `Think I'd leave your side, baby.you  
  
know me better than that.' Sara grinned, her eyes closed, settling  
  
into Grissom's pillow. "I love this song.Your company isn't that bad,  
  
Grissom. Your bug lecture this afternoon, on the other hand; that put  
  
me RIGHT to sleep." She tried to keep a straight face as she lay  
  
innocently on the bed, eyes still closed. Before she knew it, Grissom  
  
was beside her on the bed, his fingertips tickling the skin of her  
  
belly exposed when she stretched her arms up. She giggled, trying to  
  
pull her shirt down, yelling, "Stop! I take it back! Stop!" Grissom  
  
relented, pinning her arms at her sides. Sara opened her eyes, taking  
  
in the sight of Grissom above her, his shirt rumpled from their play,  
  
a curl of hair falling out of place, his legs straddling her hips on  
  
the bed. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at his eyes.  
  
The blue irises she never tired of looking in were sparkling and full  
  
of life, shining with happiness. A huge grin spread across Grissom's  
  
handsome face, and he looked as if he didn't have a care in the  
  
world. "What?" he asked, his voice soft as she stared at  
  
him. "Nothing.I just didn't picture us like this.I never thought of  
  
you as the type to tickle and wrestle. It was so normal.so much fun."  
  
She tried to shrug, a difficult task while lying flat with her arms  
  
pinned at her sides, and hoped he understood what she was saying. He  
  
did. Releasing one of her arms, he stroked her face with one hand,  
  
then cradled her cheek. "What can I say. You bring out the best of  
  
me, Sara Sidle. You bring out things I never knew I had." His face  
  
closed in on hers, taking her in.  
  
They kissed for some time. Wanting to savor the evening, Grissom  
  
forced himself to stop before they reached the point of no return. He  
  
moved his lips to Sara's cheek, then pulled her to him in a fierce  
  
embrace. Trusting him, Sara was content to lay her head on his chest  
  
as they pulled out of their embrace. She listened to the rise and  
  
fall of his chest, enjoyed the feel of him as a pillow. She tucked her head  
  
under his chin, and Grissom once again breathed in the scent of her,  
  
thinking he'd like to personally thank the makers of whatever shampoo  
  
she used, and willed his anatomy to relax. Sara wasn't helping  
  
matters any by tracing lazy circles on his stomach with her index  
  
finger, sending shivers down his body, so he took her hand and laced  
  
her fingers with his. They lay in silence for awhile, listening to  
  
the music and enjoying the warmth of being together. Sara almost  
  
startled Grissom by interrupting the moment. "Grissom, can I ask you  
  
something?" "Mmmm." She rubbed his hand with her thumb. "Have you  
  
really made peace with losing your hearing? Are you frightened, at  
  
all, by the prospects?..." She felt him swallow, his Adam's apple  
  
right next to her ear. It was a strangely erotic sensation, but she  
  
concentrated on his answer, turning her face towards his to watch him  
  
speak. "I don't know, Sara. I mean, I feel at peace with it; this is  
  
what my body has decided to do. My ears are simply obeying what  
  
they've been told to do, what's been determined by genetics. I think  
  
I'd be an idiot if I wasn't scared a little, but...at least now, I'm  
  
not going through it alone." She smiled. "Were you planning on not  
  
telling anyone?" He looked at their entwine fingers, studying  
  
them. "I thought I wanted to go through it alone. I've been alone my  
  
whole life, Sara. I don't know any other way. I've always lived in  
  
silence, lived in my head." Her forehead crinkled in sympathy and she  
  
caressed his neck with the hand resting behind his head. "But I'm  
  
glad I had to tell you. I wouldn't want anyone else to know, right  
  
now. It just...feels right." She rewarded him with her gap-toothed  
  
grin, then her face turned serious again. "So...are you going to have  
  
the surgery?" He swallowed, again. "More than likely. I'm just  
  
waiting for the word from my doctor." She wrapped her arm across his  
  
chest and hugged him, as if she was trying to fuse some of her own  
  
strength to his soul. He smiled, touched, and kissed the top of her  
  
head. "You're so wonderful, Sara." She scooted up slightly, so her  
  
head was next to his. "It's so...crazy." "What?" he circled his arms  
  
around her, nuzzling her cheek. "This...life. The unfairness of your  
  
disease, of life, the things that happen to the human body..." He  
  
watched her eyes intently as she tried to explain what she wanted to  
  
say. "I mean...we've seen so much, Grissom. Been through so much  
  
together. We've seen just about every kind of pain that human beings  
  
can inflict on each other, and then there are things like your  
  
hearing, pain that the body inflicts on itself. And then, there's  
  
us...here, together, right now." She looked him in the eye,  
  
searching. "How does this all...connect? How can I make any sense of  
  
this?" He gave a half smile. "You mean...how do you relate you and I  
  
to something scientific?" "Yes! Because...I understand human  
  
behavioral science. I understand genetics. But this...this is so new.  
  
And it seems, all of a sudden, like everything is so random. You  
  
know?" He grinned. "'What does it all mean'?" "Yeah." She laughed at her own question. "Well...I'm not  
  
a philosopher, Sara, I'm a scientist, just like you. And one of the  
  
things science has taught me is that, no matter how much I'd like to  
  
believe that everything is controlled by order, that everything  
  
really is, just...random. We role with the punches, and try to be  
  
prepared. And maybe, this is all that matters." "This....?" "This.  
  
Finding someone to share...to share the journey with, to hold your  
  
hand through genetics and violence. Maybe...being alone and living in  
  
your own head isn't the answer." Sara felt tears stinging her eyes as  
  
she touched him. "And we said we weren't going to think anymore  
  
tonight." He laughed. "Sorry-I forgot." "It's OK. I'm guilty too. I  
  
should have known; thinking is like breathing for you and I." He  
  
kissed her, gently, a kiss reminiscent of promises, one that soothed  
  
her and warmed her soul. Barely moving his face away, he  
  
whispered, "Sara-will you do me a favor?" "You know I will." "If-when-  
  
I have the procedure...will you be there when I wake up?" She closed  
  
the short distance between their lips before answering. "I don't  
  
know, I'll have to make sure it's OK with my boss. But if it's OK  
  
with him, there's no where else I'd rather be on that day." Grissom  
  
chuckled into her mouth. "Is your boss a real slave driver?" "Oh,  
  
yeah. But I like him anyway." She teased.  
  
They held each other, and Sara fell asleep in Grissom's arms. He  
  
watched her sleep for awhile, held rapt by the fact that she was  
  
there, with him. He watched her until he couldn't hold his own eyes  
  
open, and reluctantly succumbed to sleep, which he was sure couldn't  
  
hold any dreams better than this moment.  
  
The next morning, the phone woke them. Half asleep and not  
  
thinking whose room she was in, Sara crawled from under Grissom's  
  
arm, mumbling "I'll get it," and answered the phone. "Must be my damn  
  
wake up call," Grissom yawned next to her. "Hello?" she said  
  
groggily. Silence on the other end, then "Sara?" In a moment, Sara  
  
was fully awake. She looked at Grissom, her eyes wide as  
  
saucers. "Uh...Catherine!...Hi!...." Grissom's jaw dropped open. "Oh,  
  
no..." he groaned. Sara could hear the smirk in Catherine's voice on  
  
the other line. "Hey, Sara! How's the conference?" "Um...really good.  
  
How's everything there?" Her cheeks were bright red. Catherine was  
  
trying not to laugh, she could tell. "Fine...hey, let me talk to  
  
Grissom-if he's available, that is..." "Yes! Um, yeah-here he is."  
  
Grissom ran a hand over his face and took the phone. Sara shrugged  
  
helplessly, and Grissom made a gesture with his hand to assure her  
  
that it was fine. "Hello, Catherine." He could hear her smile as  
  
well, and blushed, knowing what she was thinking had gone on, but  
  
kept his cool. "How can I help you?" he asked, business-  
  
like. "Yeah...Hey, I'm sorry to call you on this line, but I tried  
  
your cell, and I think something's wrong with your voice mail. You  
  
might want to check it out. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know  
  
that the casino case is moving fast. We'll probably have the guy in  
  
for questioning by the time you guys get back. We've almost got  
  
him." "Good. And...?" "Well, you said to keep you posted." "Yeah.  
  
Anything else?" She chuckled. "I guess not. Have fun on your last  
  
day, and I'll see you tomorrow night." "OK." He was impatient,  
  
flippant. It amused Catherine to no end. "Well, I can understand  
  
you've got...'things' you want to get back to, so..." "Is that all,  
  
Catherine?" "Yep! Oh, and Gil?" "What?" "Nice work." She hung up,  
  
leaving Grissom flustered. In Vegas, Catherine had a cat-that-  
  
swallowed-the-canary grin on her face. Warrick was driving his Tahoe  
  
and they where on their way to the casino to double-check a  
  
surveillance tape. "What's up at the conference?" he asked casually.  
  
Catherine just grinned at him, like a kid unable to keep a secret for  
  
much longer, and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Warrick, wouldn't you like  
  
to know." "Hey! C'mon, Cath, don't be like that!..." "Sorry, buddy,  
  
my lips are sealed. But trust me, it's good." "Aww, man..." They  
  
pulled into the casino parking lot.  
  
In Colorado, Grissom replaced the phone in the cradle. Sara sat  
  
next to him, biting her lip. "I'm so sorry, Grissom, I wasn't even  
  
thinking..." He smiled, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "It's OK.  
  
I've never cared what others thought of me, why should I start now?"  
  
He cocked his head, smiling at her. "What?...Oh, god, I bet I look  
  
like crap, sleeping in my clothes and make-up..." She got up and went  
  
to the mirror, groaning at the site of one strand of hair that seemed  
  
to be determined to stand on its own accord. Grissom joined her,  
  
standing back and watching as she primped in the mirror, his hands in  
  
his pockets. "Actually, I was thinking how beautiful you are." She  
  
smiled, looking down. "That's sweet, but I don't feel beautiful. I'm  
  
going to go get ready. Meet you in the hall in thirty minutes?" He  
  
nodded, and watched her walk out his door. She looked over her  
  
shoulder and smiled flirtatiously at him before she closed it, making  
  
his heart skip like a child's. He went over the evening in his head.  
  
It had all been so...unlike him, yet it felt like how he was always  
  
meant to be.  
  
Feeling something in his pocket, he pulled it out. It was Sara's  
  
butterfly necklace. Grissom placed it on the dresser, then went to  
  
the shower, an irremovable smile on his face.  
  
Grissom and Sara enjoyed the last day of the conference  
  
together. They attended many of the same presentations, wandered the  
  
vendor hall-hand-in-hand-and enjoyed seeing the tools of their trade  
  
together. The day passed by quickly, and soon they where leaving  
  
the `farewell' reception together. They'd said goodbye to Kami, Dr.  
  
Fuller, and Dr. Wordsworth, in his mismatched bow-tie and suspenders,  
  
who had stopped Grissom to ask another question, and had watched the  
  
couple proudly as they walked holding hands, not afraid to show their  
  
relationship to their peers.  
  
As they walked to the elevators, Grissom placed a hand  
  
tentatively near Sara's butt. She grinned, enjoying it. There had  
  
been an unspoken sexual tension building between them all day, and  
  
Sara couldn't deny that her every spare moment had been filled with  
  
thoughts of her final night with Grissom in the hotel room--and they  
  
didn't involve just sleeping. She wanted him, badly. But doubts  
  
filled her head. What if, she worried, he wasn't ready to take that  
  
step tonight? Should they wait? What if this whole weekend was still  
  
just a dream?... Sara slowed her pace slightly so his hand rested  
  
nicely on her buttocks, and felt her doubts begin to melt away,  
  
overcome with the need of being with him.  
  
Grissom thrilled at the sensation. He'd been able to think of  
  
little but making love to Sara all day, of their last night in  
  
Colorado. But, worry filled his head. He wanted Sara to know how much  
  
he cared for her, and didn't want to pressure her into something she  
  
wasn't ready to do. Then he relaxed and gave into the pleasure of  
  
wanting her as she allowed him to touch her. He smiled down at her,  
  
and was reminded that no one would force someone as strong as Sara  
  
into doing something she wasn't ready for. He quickened his pace to  
  
the elevators.  
  
As the floors passed swiftly by, Sara took it as her turn to  
  
make a move. She faced Gil and placed one hand on his chest, pulling  
  
his head towards hers with the other, and kissed him sensuously. He  
  
took over quickly, surprising and exciting her with his  
  
passion. "Gil..." she moaned as he leaned her against the elevator  
  
wall."Are you fine with this?" he gasped, sliding his fingers under  
  
her shirt, enjoying the coolness of her skin. She nodded. "Oh, yeah."  
  
He smiled and slid his hand toward her bra, kissing her hard.  
  
The elevator gave it's `ping' as it came to a stop, and they couple  
  
hurried toward Grissom's room.  
  
They eased onto the bed. Clumsily, they tried to unbutton each  
  
other's shirts without breaking their lips contact. Somehow, they managed,  
  
and Grissom felt dizzy at the site of her, the realization that the  
  
moment was real. Sara went for the buckle of his pants, and moaned as  
  
he unbuckled her bra. "Sara..." he gasped, "if you want me to quit,  
  
just say the word, and I will. I want you, so much, but I...I...oh,  
  
GOD..." She had removed his pants.he was in love with her hands and what they were doing. "Gil," she whispered, her voice  
  
hoarse with passion as he helped her take of her own slacks, "don't  
  
ever quit. Please." With a groan, he kissed her hungrily, letting his  
  
hands take free will, reveling in her sounds of pleasure. 


	12. Confrontation chapter twelve

The Tahoe hit a bump in the road and Grissom winced, then  
  
smiled. He was tired and sore, but in a ivery/i good way. He  
  
looked over at Sara, on the seat across from him and felt his heart  
  
swell. He couldn't stop thinking about last night. And he had decided  
  
that his night with Lady Heather hadn't been a complete and total  
  
mistake; it had served to remind him how to please a woman, allow him  
  
some practice. And there was no woman he wanted to please more than  
  
Sara. He felt a feral male pride in knowing that he had pleased her; her cries still echoed in his ears, her heat still lingered on his skin.And god, how she had pleased him.he couldn't believe what an amazing trip this conference had been. Grissom concentrated on the road long enough to take an exit  
  
and get off the ramp and onto the road, then he couldn't help but  
  
look at Sara again. The whole weekend had been marvelous and  
  
unexpected. For the first time in his life, Grissom was disappointed  
  
to be returning to work. Sara made a soft sound in her sleep,  
  
shifting beneath her seatbelt, and Grissom felt his body long for  
  
her. He wished he could turn the Tahoe around, head back the  
  
Colorado, and spend a lifetime in that hotel room with Sara. But  
  
Vegas was only an hour away.  
  
The orange signs of a road construction crew made Grissom slow  
  
down, and he obediently stopped for a man in a yellow vest with a red  
  
stop sign. Behind the man, a huge yellow and black machine took a  
  
load of dirt across the medium. The workmen looked just as anxious  
  
and annoyed to be working on the interstate as the drivers behind  
  
Grissom looked to be stopped on the interstate. Willing to sacrifice  
  
four minutes of travel for the betterment of the highway, Grissom  
  
smiled reassuringly at the man with the sign and took the opportunity  
  
to watch Sara sleep.  
  
The light sleeper had awakened by the lack of motion and  
  
mumbled, "Grissom?.. Is everything OK..?" She squinted, waiting for  
  
the blur of sleep to pass, and turned her head to meet Grissom's  
  
adoring gaze. Memories of the previous night in his bed came rushing  
  
back--along with the realization that they were going back home. Sara  
  
felt hope and dread in her chest all at once. Grissom stroked her  
  
face with the back of his hand, and she smiled, but gently pulled  
  
away. He frowned, but before he could say anything, Sara looked at  
  
her watch. "I've been sleeping for three hours? Gris, you should have  
  
woken me up sooner! How close are we?" Her voice was strained  
  
slightly in the last sentence. "We should be in Vegas in an hour or  
  
so, depending on how long these guys hold us up." "An hour. Great."  
  
There was obvious sarcasm in her voice. Grissom watched her, puzzled.  
  
She avoided his eyes as she reached over and pushed the radio on, the  
  
volume so loud Grissom jumped. He sat completely still, observing her  
  
like an insect, not sure of what else to do. She reached into her  
  
purse on the floorboard and pulled out a Ziploc bag of soy nuts, and  
  
stuffed a handful into her mouth with shaking hands, face turned so he  
  
couldn't see her emotions.  
  
The man in the yellow vest waved them on, and Grissom had no  
  
choice but to drive.  
  
He searched his brain as he drove, and realized she must be  
  
having second thoughts, regretting their evening together. He felt  
  
pain, anger at himself, and shame. She'd been quiet all day, ever  
  
since they'd checked out. He had chosen not to fully see it, but now  
  
he realized. He turned the radio off and reached out to touch her  
  
shoulder. "Sara...do we need to talk." "No. It's fine." Her voice was  
  
strained. "Sara, please. If I need to apologize for my actions last  
  
night...I shouldn't have let it happen. I should have thought of you.  
  
I really didn't"-"God, no, Gil, it's not that!" She angrily turned  
  
her head, and he saw a lone tear streaming down her face. It ripped  
  
into his heart. "Sara..." he reached for her, but she looked away,  
  
again."Watch the road, Grissom." He sighed and took the wheel with  
  
both hands. "Tell me what the matter is, Sara. Please."  
  
Defeated, she slumped against the seat, fiddling with the bottom  
  
of her shirt, staring at her fingers. "Well, I don't know, it's  
  
just...These past few days were so great. And now, it's back to the  
  
routine, and...I know things won't be the same. Between us. You'll go  
  
back to your work and your bugs, and I'll be left out in the cold.  
  
Ever since I've known you, Grissom, there's been this pull between  
  
us, and I've been in love with you, and I had no idea if you felt the  
  
same way. Every once in awhile, you'd throw me a bone, let me think  
  
there was some chance. Then you'd break my heart." Grissom's knuckles  
  
turned white on the steering wheel, feeling her words cut to his very  
  
core. She loved him. Sara stared straight ahead at the road, not  
  
trusting herself to look at him. She continued. "And then, this  
  
weekend, we came so far, and... it was heaven, Grissom. But there's a  
  
huge part of me that knows that that will all have to stay in  
  
Colorado. That you can't love me in Nevada, that you'll pull back  
  
into your shell and shut me out, as soon as we go into that lab." The  
  
tears were flowing freely now.  
  
Her words circled in his brain. And...she loved him. In one  
  
swift movement, Grissom changed two lanes, surprising Sara, and  
  
pulled to a stop in the `emergency only' side shoulder. "What are you  
  
doing?" He placed the Tahoe in `park', and unbuckled his seatbelt,  
  
moving his body towards Sara, reaching out and taking her  
  
by the shoulders. "Sara, look at me." Slowly, she did.  
  
"I didn't realize I'd hurt you so much before, Sara. If I could  
  
take it all back, I would." He flicked a tear off of her cheek, then  
  
cupped her face in his palm. The tears kept falling. "Please, Sara,  
  
stop crying...I'm so sorry. You don't know how much I hate that I did  
  
that to you. But please believe me, Sara, I will do my best to never  
  
do it again. I know I've been a fool, but...Sara, I love you. I love  
  
you, too. I do." The words were so unfamiliar they almost felt thick  
  
on his tongue, but it was accompanied with a freeing sensation that  
  
made it wonderful. Sara's eyes shone in surprise. He repeated the  
  
words. "I love you. Sara, I told you back in Colorado...I'm not a  
  
poet. I'm not...there are so many things I'm not, Sara." He chuckled  
  
at this, and a smile turned up a corner of her own mouth. "But you'll  
  
have to take me as I am. This is all I've got. And I can't promise  
  
that it's going to be perfect. This is a whole new world for me. I'm  
  
going to screw up, a lot, and you'll have to bear with me. Can you  
  
take me as I am? Will you be willing to stay with me while I do a  
  
whole lot more stupid things and disappoint you a whole lot? Because,  
  
Sara...that's all I can promise. I'm not good at this. I'm going to  
  
hurt you more. I wish I couldn't say that, but it's true. I'm human,  
  
and I'm a human who does not deal with people very well. You know  
  
that. You know me more than anyone. You'll have to help me. Will you  
  
tell me when I hurt you, when I'm doing something wrong? Will you  
  
hang onto me, let me grow and find out how to do this right? Will you  
  
stay by my side?" His eyes, pure and blue, glittered with sincerity  
  
and a passion to learn how to love. Sara's tears turned to tears of  
  
happiness. Thoroughly touched, she could only nod. He looked so  
  
earnest and innocent, pleading for her love. She wondered if he  
  
really feared that she'd deny him. All her fears melted away, and she  
  
kissed him. They held each other like lifelines as cars sped past, in  
  
another world and on their way to hundreds of distant destinations.  
  
Grissom and Sara released from their embrace, renewed and with  
  
hearts full of hope. Grissom eased back onto the interstate, miles of  
  
road and a promising pink sunset stretched in front of them. The  
  
Tahoe launched them into the future at sixty-five miles per hour, and  
  
Grissom and Sara reached for each other's hands, resting their  
  
entwined fingers in between the front seats.  
  
And the lights of Vegas waited for them, a little over an hour  
  
away.  
  
~THE END~ 


End file.
